Dangerous Games
by VTM Potter Crazy
Summary: All hope was lost the day the Boy Who Lived took his final breath and now she is on her own. Her existence is a secret so only one question remains. Will old enemies become new friends in her struggle to save the world? Rated M for later chapters, REVIEW!
1. It's not over yet

Chapter one: It's not over yet.

I once had a life worth living. I once had a life full of friendship, family and love. I once had a life in general.

But the lord giveth and the lord can taketh away, though it is not god that I speak of.

He is a man, no, he is a _monster_, and that monster took everything, and everyone that was ever worth living for.

Since the rise of the Dark Lord, all I have ever known is hurt and torture.

I knew it was a mistake for Harry to go into that forest alone, but he wouldn't let me go with him. He wouldn't let us help him anymore.

"It's got to be me," he told us.

Ron and I stood there just staring at him for a moment, until the onslaught of objections flowed from our minds to our mouths.

He was right. It _did_ have to be him. But it didn't have to be _only_ him.

I argued, I cried, I yelled, I screamed and none of it made a difference. He had already made up his mind.

I could have cursed Dumbledore right then and there for putting him in this hell, but my love for the old man stopped me. I didn't even understand why I still held respect for him when he was sending my best friend to sacrifice himself, but I did.

Harry hugged me tightly, one last time. I suppose it was supposed to calm me down, but it only made me angrier. How could this have happened? Why did it have to be him? He didn't ask for it and he sure as hell didn't want it either.

"It's up to you now," he whispered to me softly "Hit him a good few times for me 'Mione."

My tears continued as I watched him embrace Ron for the last time as well. They were brothers, even if their blood was different, they were brothers, just as it should have been, but that only made it harder to let Harry go.

We waited for all of half an hour before his cold, cruel voice shattered our ear drums once more, and I knew it was over. For the first time in my life, I felt the cold sting of defeat pierce my soul, and it hurt more than anything else.

As Hagrid carried his hollow corpse out into the grounds, all I remember is feeling numb. I couldn't see, I couldn't hear, I couldn't think, I couldn't feel. All I knew was that it was over. The Dark Lord had won.

That blank stare in Harry's eyes, where life had been dancing with glee only minutes before, would stay with me for the rest of my life.

Voldemort burned his body to the ground that very night. He made an example of him to the rest of us who would dare resist his new reign. There was nothing left but cinders and ashes when he was done. I couldn't help but wonder whether his mother had ever told him not to play with his food, but then I remembered that he never had one. The wind carried Harry into the night and scattered him across the home and castle he loved so much. The wind carried him to me too. It danced around me, speaking to me, telling me that he was in a better place, and I knew then, that he was with his parents.

I knew then that this wasn't some horrible nightmare that I would wake up from at any moment. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, The Chosen One, My best friend, was gone.

Gone, dead and silent forever more.

I remember a pair of hands pulling at me as reality crashed into me, but I didn't want to move. The hands then picked me up and carried me away, to keep me safe from the murderer of my best friend.

Ron carried me to the Headmaster's office, though I didn't know it at the time. He pulled me onto the spiral stair case and held me as his own tears fell for the loss of our honorary brother.

He knew we didn't have much time, we both did. Soon, Voldemort and his cronies would be searching the castle for us.

Harry Potter's best friends and the last feeble threat to his immortality.

Ron placed me in one of the chairs in front of the desk that had once been Albus Dumbledore's, and he began to converse with the old man himself.

"What do we do?" he asked him with tear filled eyes "Harry's gone, what do we do next?"

But all Dumbledore did was stare at him with saddened eyes. They had lost their signature twinkle for the first time in their very long life.

"You run," he told them "There is nothing more you can do here."

"What do you mean 'run'?" Ron asked angrily.

It was then that I heard it. A bang at the end of the hall. They were coming for us.

"Get out of the country you stupid boy!" Snape told him, his portrait having magically appeared out of nowhere "Run, go abroad and take Granger with you!"

There was another bang, though this time it was closer. Soon they would be running up the stairs, and they would apprehend us.

Suddenly, my brain began to work again.

"Harry wouldn't have run," I told them quietly "He would have stayed until the bitter end."

"And that is what got him killed," Phineus Nigellus jumps in, "Be smart. You will do no one any good when you are dead."

Ron looked deep in thought as I heard another bang, now almost at the staircase.

"Alright," he said as he turned to me.

He stood me up from the chair and placed a small pouch in my hand. It was Harry's, the one Hagrid had given him for his seventeenth birthday. I looked at him, confused beyond reason and he spoke to me softly then.

"You'll be able to wait," he told me "You've always been smarter than me and Harry. We wouldn't have gotten this far with out you. You'll plan and wait for the right moment. I'll stuff it up somehow. Take this too," he handed me his wand, "I don't stand a chance and I'd rather you have it than them."

I knew then what he had planned.

"No," I whispered as tears filled my eyes again "I can't lose you too, not tonight."

"You can do it," he said as tears filled his own eyes once more "I know you can."

I didn't know it, but I was letting him guide me into a nearby fire place.

"Ron," I whisper "No."

"It's up to you now," he told me, just before his lips crushed to mine for the very last time, "It was you I wanted. Always you."

It was then that I lost all resolve. My arms flew around him as I willed them to never let go. I cried for what seemed like hours, but was really only minutes, never wanting to leave him, but another bang, this time on the staircase, forced him to throw me into the fire place.

Death Eaters emerged through the door, just as Ron threw the floo powder into the grate and and said "THE BURROW!"

In a whirl of green flame I saw them take him and attempt to catch me, but it was too late.

I stood motionless in the new fire place for the longest time, willing this nightmare to end, but it never did. Only when I felt danger soar through my veins did I remember where I had come from, and who I had left behind.

With my best friend's most treasured possessions, and my boyfriend's wand in my hands, I fled my home away from home. I ran and I ran until I could run no more, and when I stopped, my pain caught up with me.

We had such little time together. Our stubborn pride and stupid sense of embarrassment got in the way of us being together, and when we finally did get our wish, it was taken away in one foul swoop, it was destroyed by one measly wave of a wand. The pain willed me to let it take over, but I couldn't let it win, not yet.

I aparated back to the Forest of Dean, set up the tent and put up my wards and silencing charms. It was then and only then, that I did what my mind, body and soul cried out for since the very beginning.

I screamed.

I poured out my grief through the roar of my voice. For Fred, for Remus, for Tonks, for Moody, for Dobby, for Colin...For Harry and Ron.

I screamed and I cried. I destroyed every object in my path until there was nothing left but me. I took out my wand in my haste, forgetting what Ron and Harry had said to me. I aimed it at my chest, willing for those two words to leave my lips for the first and last time. I tried so hard to let it happen, but I couldn't. The will to live still flowed through my veins, though I didn't know how or why.

I had lost everything, yet I still wanted to go on. I asked myself why over and over and over again, but the answer never came, until their words came crashing down upon me once again.

_It's up to you now._

I was the only one left. The only one who knew of the Horcruxs. The only one who knew Tom Riddle's weaknesses and lies. If I died today, there would be no hope left for anyone. Voldemort would not stop until he had the world under his control.

I knew it, and so did he.

That was when anger took over my mind and I screamed once again, though this time it was frustration that caused the outburst. How could they leave me with this impossible task? How could they leave me with this burden on my shoulders? How could they leave me to carry it on my own?

I threw the wand and the pouch across the room and heard it collide with the table on the other side.

I realised then that there was only one thing for it. They had left me no choice.

_It had to be me._

I looked at the fallen objects I had carelessly thrown and I sighed as more tears reach my eyes.

I couldn't stay mad at them. They loved me so much, they wouldn't have done this intentionally. They wouldn't have left me unless they had to. And they did, they really did have to.

I walked over to the wand and pouch and pick them up.

Suddenly, there was a small _'crack'_ within my tent and I came to gaze upon a face I thought I would never see again.

* * *

The years passed by and the wizarding world slowly descended into chaos. As it was predicted, Voldemort did not stop at England, he moved further.

In two years, he had the continent of Europe; In three, he had the entire Northern Hemisphere, but the resistance of the south put up a good fight. It took him another seven to conquer them.

In only ten years, Voldemort had the entire world under his control. He had the pure-blood society that he had always dreamed of, all manor of witches and wizards cowered before his feet.

He had everything he had ever wanted right before him.

The stupid Boy-Who-Lived-To-Become-A-Neusence had tried and failed to take away his immortality, for Nagini was still at his side, hissing soft songs of praise for her master. He had tried and failed to destroy a man that was far greater than himself. He had tried and failed to save his friends from the wrath of Lord Voldemort, and Lord Voldemort cherished every scream the boy made when under his spell.

Weasley had been apprehended minutes after Potter himself had fallen. The boy had strength, he had to admit that. It had taken Weasley days to crack under constant torture. If he had not been so much of a bloody Gryffindork, Voldemort may have been able to use him in his inner circle, but he was Potter's man through and through.

Granger had been found dead in a ditch somewhere a month after the final battle. Her skin almost ripped to shreds by some mannor of claws and teeth. Her blood sprayed from half a mile down the road to where she finally layed to rest. Voldemort was pleased that she was out of the way, but he was less than happy that he had not been able to do it himself.

He crucioed every werewolf in his path that day for their insolence.

He had been surprised that she lasted as long as she did, evading his detection with every spell known to wizard kind. She was certainly clever. He had known that she was the brains of the trio, and he knew that the other two would have done what ever necessary to protect her from him.

Too bad they tried and failed.

He was sitting in the Headmaster' office of his favorite school. It had changed a lot since Severus and Dumbledore had been in charge. It no longer had the funny glow of invite or the bitter taste of happiness. In fact the entire castle had lost it's life that day in the final battle, along with the Boy-Who-Lived-And-Finaly-Died.

"So what do you think My Lord?" Avery asked.

He had replaced Severus as Headmaster, the moment that Hogwarts had fallen. The current teachers were less than happy about it, but they knew better than to take a stand after the show he put on concerning Potter's body.

"Do it," he said "She is becoming more and more restless and I would not put it past her to try something when she already knows that she is dying. The mannor in which she goes does not concern her. Once you do, Malfoy will take her place. Aside from myself, he has to be the best candidate for the job, and I have neither the time or patience to deal with childen."

It was true. In the short amount of time that he had been in the castle that day, he had tortured at least three third years and one first year for crossing his path and balling their eyes out at the sight of him, pleading with him not to kill them. It sickened him to hear them cry, so he tortured them until they stopped.

"She is not so close to death as of yet," Avery continued "Perhaps we should wait until-"

"No," he cut him off "She needs to go before she does something rash. The time for execution has long since been over Avery. The time for containment has come."

At those last words, an owl flew to the window of the Headmaster's office and tapped it dutifully, determined to deliver it's package for his master.

Avery stood from his seat and marched to where the owl was perched. He opened the window and took the package from the bird.

It was a small little black box, but it was not addressed to the headmaster.

"My Lord," Avery said, not looking at him "It's for you."

The Dark Lord looked up at his servant and walked over to where he stood. He placed a hand on the package to detect any and all curses placed upon it, but there were none.

He took the box from Avery's hands and placed it upon the desk in front of him. He placed a series of enchantments on the box, just to be safe, just as another owl swooped in through the window of the Headmaster's office.

This one contained a letter, also addressed to the Dark Lord.

Voldemort decided that it would be more prudent to open the letter before the box, seeing as now he knew that there were no curses or feeble attempts to harm him placed on either.

_Dearest Tom_

He sneered at the use of his muggle name and continued. Something was not right about this.

_It has been a long time since I have layed eyes on you, though I expect you are just as much of a monster inside and out as you ever were._

_I just thought that it was only fair to warn you that, I know who and what you really are. Harry Potter wasn't the only one who knew your secrets._

_Be on your guard._

_Sincerely_

_The Girl That Got Away_

Voldemort read the last line of the letter over and over again until he was convinced that he was not seeing things.

No girl had ever gotten away. What is this?

He noticed a post script at the bottom of the page.

_P.S I thought you might like to have this. I no longer need it to remind myself that this war is not yet over._

Voldemort looked closely at the tiny box. He realised then that he was meant to open it last. He cast it a dark look before he allowed his fingers to pull the lid upwards.

Inside, were what was left of Hufflepuff's cup. He simply stared at it in shock for a few moments, but then he roared in rage and tipped the desk over, shattering the cup into even smaller pieces than it was in.

Avery cowered in fear behind a pillar, not wishing to be his master's punching bag.

Who could possibly have known about it? Who could possibly still be alive that knew his secrets? He had worked too hard to have it all shattered by some wretched witch with a death wish!

"M-master?" the Headmaster asked feebly "What has happened?"

Voldemort turned on him, his face murderous with rage, but he soon calmed down, realising what he was doing.

"Nothing."


	2. Finally

**Hello lovely Readers!**

**A big thank you to those who reviewed my first chapter. I really enjoyed hearing that you liked it, so please, don't hesitate on the reviews, whether they're good or bad.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine. I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.**

* * *

Chapter two: Finally.

Her plan had worked perfectly. He had panic written all over his face when she saw him the next day, though it would have taken a very keen eye to spot it.

She had perched herself in a tree under the invisibility cloak she had recovered a few months before hand, and that in itself had been a mission.

She had taken a year or so to work up the courage to get herself in there, but she had none the less. She had found it on the forest floor, thanks to some help from Bane and the other centaurs who had sworn upon their honour, once they had figured out who she was, that they would take her secret to the grave.

She watched him as he conversed with his Death Eaters about a possible hiding place for the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix. It pleased her that he still hadn't found them, after all, they needed some peace and quiet.

But she could see in his eyes that he had her letter on his mind.

After she had calmed down, that day in the tent, she packed everything up and went to Australia. It took her a week to find out that Wendel and Monica Wilkins had been trekking in the bush and that they were staying with a tribe of very accommodating Aborigines.

Hermione pulled them aside instantly and reversed the memory charms that she had placed on them for their protection. She had been right, they had been mad initially, but that soon faded away when she broke down in her mothers arms and told them that they had lost.

Her mother cradled her for hours, until Hermione knew that it was time to go. She gave them her love and said her goodbyes one last time, before she placed new memory charms on each of them and moved them to a small secluded island near Hawaii. Once she had done so, she wiped her own memory of their location and aliases.

It almost broke her heart in two when she did it, but it was for the best.

After that, she had devoted her life for the next ten years to bringing down the Dark Lord.

She started by faking her own death. How was she supposed to bring down the most evil man of all time while she had every auror, death eater and Godrik knows who else looking for her? Using some magic that she had learned while traveling around the world, she managed to make a fake, mangled corpse of herself. She thought it might be best to pin it on a few werewolves, hoping that Greyback would cop it for her death.

Once the word had been spread that Hermione Jean Granger was dead, in the safety of her tent in the Forest of Dean, she began to work on her next problem.

Finding a way to beat the Elder Wand.

She knew that there was no chance of her getting close enough to Voldemort to kill him the muggle way and take the wand, like others had done in The Tale of Three Brothers. It would be impossible, with his advanced Legillimancy skills working against her. She would have no chance.

So the only way she could possibly take him down, would be in a duel, and that was also a frightening prospect.

Her magic alone would never be strong enough, she had no illusions of grandeur when it came to a duel with the devil himself. She knew that she would lose.

With a bit of help from Kreacher, who had been the one who had apperated into her tent that fateful night after the final battle, she managed to start getting research done on the wand itself.

The Black family library contained many fascinating books on wand lore, and it took all of her concentration not to lose sight of her objective, but she managed to stay focused until the end.

But it was useless.

None of the books that Kreacher had provided had given her any answers to her ever daunting problem.

After that, she retreated into darkness for years. Without a shred of evidence that the Death Stick could be beaten, she had no way of saving the world. She had no way to exact revenge upon the monster that had destroyed her world with a lazy wave of his wrist.

She remained hidden from the rest of the world, retreating within herself, feeling nothing but pain and regret, steadily becoming just as cold and bitter as the man she was trying to defeat.

Her appearance began to slowly change over time as her magic accommodated her growing desperation for those she loved, giving her the only comfort it could. Her hair became very similar to a boy she once knew. His jet black tendrils took their place upon her head, straightening and darkening her wild hair, but keeping it a considerable length longer than his.

Unlike the monster who she was trying so desperately to defeat, she did not grow pale, but a lovely warm tan spread through her skin. It came from all the out door work she had while she travelled abroad, searching for her parents, and answers to the questions that the others had left her to solve.

Her eyes took on the colour of a boy's she had once loved so much. The deer brown orbs that had lost their life and shine slowly morphed their colour into a warm, yet startling blue. A blue that she wished to see again more than anything in this world.

With her appearance having changed so much since the final battle, she was almost free to move about with out having to transfigure herself. She had even passed a very weak looking Finir Greyback in a muggle town once and he had not even noticed that she was the girl he had threatened to contaminate back in Malfoy manor.

She had followed him that day and he was found dead within the hour. He was missing his head but they managed to I.D him easily enough by the note that she left behind.

_He had it coming,_ was all it said.

She also managed to retrieve the wand that she had lost that day in Malfoy Manor from his back pocket.

She had to polish and shine it several times to get his grubby finger marks off of it and reclaim it as her own.

After that, she returned to being her miserable, mopey, yet unrecognisable self. her own wand could only help so much.

It was only when she saw herself in the mirror one morning, that those wonderful blue eyes gave her an answer. An answer that could quite possibly work.

She may not have the power alone, but with Harry and Ron by her side, perhaps the war wasn't over yet. But she had no idea if it was possible...It had never been tried before...She would need the correct balance and tools just to make it stable.

She would need an expert's opinion.

So eight years into her silence, she set out to reconnect with those whom she had lost...

_It was not a pleasant day to be searching for the headquarters of the last remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix, but she persevered. The wind and rain hit her hard, but she carried on until she found what she was looking for._

_A house, well house wasn't really the right word seeing as it was big enough to swallow at least two of them, mansion seemed to be a better fit. _

_She walked up the long path, her black cloak billowing, but keeping her safe and sound from the howling wind and rain._

_She couldn't wait to see the looks on their faces when they saw her, it would be priceless-_

_She felt a presence behind her and she stopped dead when she felt a wand poking at the base of her neck._

_"Who are you?" a familiar voice asked._

_"You wouldn't believe me if I told you Ginny," she said with a smirk._

_"How did you-"_

_"I would recognise your voice anywhere," she responded, "Especially after the way you squealed when you saw the birthday present Harry had gotten you when you were in fifth year."_

_A small hand roughly gripped her shoulder and spun her around._

_Ginny hadn't changed that much over the years. Her hair was still red, her eyes were still brown, but she had a massive scar running down one side of her face that took away from her perfect complexion._

_She removed Hermione's hood and looked at her formerly dead best friend in shock._

_"It can't be," she whispered as she stared into what was supposed to be her brother's eyes "They said you were dead,"_

_"Well," Hermione smiled for the first time in years "How could I find the solution to all our problems when I have V-"_

_"DON'T!" Ginny screamed "It's still tabooed!"_

_Hermione grumbled.  
"When I have You-Know-Who," she chose instead "Screaming for my death?"_

_Ginny considered her for a moment, her wand still raised high._

_"Where was my first kiss with Harry Potter?" She fired at Hermione_

_"In the Gryffindor common room after we had won the quidditch cup in sixth year." The older woman answered immediately._

_"What was Hermione Jean Granger's cat breed?"_

_"Half cat, half kneezle."_

_"Who did I tell Hermione Jean Granger not to tell when I started dating Michael Corner in her fifth year?"_

_"Your brother," she answered, not wishing to speak his name, making sure that she held her tears back._

_"Who was Hermione Jean Granger's first kiss?" Ginny asked all of a sudden "Only the real Hermione and myself know that."_

_The rain stopped completely when she answered._

_"Blaise Zabbini," Hermione drawled "While we were both under the influence of a love potion. Someone's cruel idea of a joke in third year, and he was bloody awful at it."_

_Ginny looked gobsmacked, but then her arms flew around Hermione in one fluid motion._

_"It is you," she cried, "It really is you."_

_The two witches held the embrace for the longest time. It really was nice to have physical human contact again._

_"Ginny," Hermione finally pulled away "I'm not here because I felt like catching up. Truth be told I'm just putting you in danger by talking to yo-"_

_"God your personality matches your hair you know that?" The witch laughed "Look around you Hermione, we're all in danger, whether you're here or not and I would prefer it if you were to be honest. It gives me my best friend back."_

_Hermione smiled at her. She guessed that she was right, but she still couldn't help but feel that she was making it worse._

_"Besides," Ginny continued with laughter in her eyes "You're dead remember?"_

_Ginny walked her up to the house as the sun began to shine, giving Hermione more hope with every step she took. She learned of everything she had missed, including the birth of Bill and Fleur's little girl, Victoire. It had to be the happiest piece of news she had heard in a while._

_Ginny opened the front door with a password and a tap with her wand._

_"So how did you find Aunt Muriel's anyway?" Ginny asked "She's been dead for years you know."_

_"I remembered the address that Moody gave to Tonks back when You-Know-Who was first starting to take control," Hermione recollected "Back when we had to take H-"_

_She stopped in mid-sentance. She hadn't spoked either of their names in so long that it just hurt to even use the letters 'R' or 'H' at the beginning of anything let alone say their names completely. It had been eight years, but she still missed them as much as she had at the end of the final battle._

_"I miss them too," Ginny whispered as she guided Hermione down the hall "I think about them all the time and the mess that they've left us all in."_

_"Not a day goes by when they aren't on my mind Ginny," Hermione told her "They were all I had, and now all I have is their memories."_

_"It's better than nothing at all," Ginny told her as they stopped in front of one of the doors on the left._

_Ginny knocked on the door and the voice of Mr Weasley answered._

_"Who is it?" he asked._

_"It's Ginny," she said "And you'll never guess who's with me."_

_They heard foot steps on the other side, and in a moment, Mr Weasley had come to the door and held it ajar._

_He looked at Hermione funnily for a moment, not recognising who she was, until she smiled at him, and then his eyes opened in shock and he pulled out his wand._

_"What were the first words Hermione Granger ever said to me?" He asked in an enraged voice "If you are an impostor, I swear I will curse you into oblivion."_

_Hermione smiled at him._

_"I looked at your balding head and said 'I can recommend something for that.'" She laughed at him, taking in his completely hairless head "And I still could if your up to it."_

_He lowered his wand slowly and then pulled her into a hug as tears began to flow down his aged face._

_"How is this possible?" He choked "We thought you were-"_

_"Dead I know," she told him "Sorry but that was my fault. I couldn't get to work if I had death himself looking for me."_

_He pulled back and looked at her again with a smile._

_"You've taken my sons' eyes and hair," he laughed "That's how you've gone unnoticed I take it?"_

_"Yeah," she smiled at Mr Weasley acknowledging Harry as a son "They've been with me for a while."_

_"Molly and George will be over joyed to see you," he told her._

_"How much of the Order is left?" She asked immediately remembering her purpose._

_"Not much," he told her "There's myself, Ginny, Molly and George who are the hierarchy now and then you have what's left of the DA that fought in the final battle."_

_"You'll have to see them tonight when we-" Ginny began, but Hermione cut her off._

_"I'm not here to stay," she told them "After I've done this, I'm going back into hiding-"_

_"You can't," Mr Weasley told her "You just got back, we can't let you go-"_

_"You have to," she told him gravely "I may have found a way to bring him down, but I have to do it alone. It's got to be me."_

_"Oh god not this again," the old man sighed_

_"I already had to let Harry go," Ginny told her as tears began to fill her eyes again " I won't lose you too. We're not going to let you do this on your own."_

_"You have to," she told them "At least for now. I guarantee that there will be another battle, and it will be big, but for now, you need to let me do this."_

_Mr Weasley paused and then sighed._

_"What do you need?" He asked her._

_"I need to speak to Ollivander," she told them "I know he's been very ill-"_

_"How could you possibly know that?" Mr Weasley asked her "No one even knows that he is hiding here."_

_It was then that Hermione pulled a couple of extendable ears out of her pocket.  
"I really must thank George for these next time I see him," she told them "I saw Luna and Neville at a muggle grocery store and when they ducked over in a deserted isle to talk, I used the extendable ears."_

_Ginny groaned at the thought._

_"They really need to be more careful," she mused._

_"Come on 'Mione," Mr Weasley put an arm around her shoulders "We'll take you to his room and you can speak to him there."_

_They moved along the enormous halls and down the winding corridors, Hermione already lost as to where they had come from._

_They finally came to a stop in front of a large mahogany door._

_"This is the room we put the terminally ill patients in," Mr Weasley explained "Give them the comfort and privacy they need. Ollivander has been ill for a while so we thought it may be best to move him here."_

_"So there's no chance of recovery?" Hermione asked sadly and Mr Weasley shook his head._

_"He has lived a long and happy life," he explained "He feels it is his time."_

_With that, they slowly opened the doors to the largest and most luxurious room in the house. A king sized four-poster was where Ollivander could be found._

_He was coughing profusly while trying to read a book that was entitled; _War of the Wands: A Wand Makers Guide Through History.

_"Arthur?" He called as he heard the door open "Is that you? Or is it Ginerva?"_

_"Both accutally," Ginny answered as the three of them entered "And we have a guest too."_

_Ollivander put down his book and leaned forward to look at the three of them. Mr Weasley was right, it was written all over his face that he had had a long life. He was more wrinkled than ever before with lines of wisdom etched across his pale face._

_"Who is this?" he asked, peering through his square rimmed glasses._

_"Perhaps this would give you a better idea?" Hermione presented him with her wand._

_"Hmm," He stared at it and then back at her "Vine wood and dragon heart sting. Miss Granger, how lovely to see you again."_

_He smiled at her kindly and she smiled back at him._

_"How are you feeling sir?" she asked politely._

_"About as well as I was the day you, Mr Weasley and Mr Potter rescued me from the Malfoy cellar," he responded, coughing afterwards "But I imagine that you have not come out of hiding just to visit me."_

_"No sir," she sighed "I think I may have found a way to solve all our problems, but I'm not sure if it will work."_

_"And you think that I may be able to help you?" he asked uncertainly with another cough "I'm sorry but unless it involves a wand-"_

_"It concerns four," Hermione told him quickly "The Elder wand, mine...Harry's and Ron's."_

_He looked at her confusedly._

_"I don't have the power to kill him on my own," she told him "I never will. I can wait and become as strong as I like, but I will never reach his level. But if I have Harry and Ron with me..."_

_She trailed off in mid sentence, remembering their last words to her._

It's up to you now...Hit him a good few times for me...It's you, always been you.

_"I need you to tell me," she asked him after a moment "If it is possible to merge three wands into one, and if so, would it be strong enough to beat the Elder wand."_

_Ollivander stared at her for a moment and then inclined his head in thought._

_"It has never been tried before," he told her "You must remember that the wand choses the wizard Miss Granger and if you did succeed in your endeavour, the wand may feel that it no longer belongs to you, however, given the history you have with the other wands' previous owners and assuming that you merge them yourself, I would say that should not be a problem._

_"Your real problem, is going to be finding out the right balance between core power and casting skill. If it is not correctly balanced between the two, your new wand will become unstable and therefore completely useless. Each wand has a unique balance for it's castor, therefore, you must find the balance of your own wand to make it yield your, and only your command."_

_"But can it be done?" She asked him again._

_"On paper," he told her "It is possible, but as I said, it has never been done before."_

_She nodded. She knew that it would be a stretch, but she had to try. She just had to._

_"I don't think that you are in any condition to teach me how to make a wand," she stated._

_"Unfortunately not," he told her "In all the long years that I have pursued the oldest and noblest of traditions of wand lore, I have never taught anyone my ways. All those that have asked have never grasped the finer points of the art."_

_Hermione only watched as he coughed into a dirty handkerchief._

_"I believe that during your fifth year that you had academic counseling with your head of house...er...Minerva McGonagall?" he asked her and she nodded "She told me that you had thought of a career in wand lore just a month afterwards. We had it all set up for the end of your seventh year, that if you still wished to pursue that certain career path, that I would teach you myself. She wanted to surprise you."_

_"I did back then," she smiled "And if we ever get out of this, I still do."_

_"Unfortunately, I will not be around to see it," he coughed again, this time more violently "There is a book, in Hogwarts," he told her "_Knots and all, _is the title. Find it, and it will tell you everything you need to know about wand making. In the back, there is a concealment charm on the inside of the cover. Open it."_

_He coughed again and again as blood began to spill from his mouth. His time had come._

_Ginny grabbed a towel from somewhere and held it to Ollivander._

_He coughed and spluttered up more blood before he colapsed back onto the bed once again, looking more pale than ever. Hermione felt tears prickle the edges of her eyes._

_"Don't cry for this old man," he told her fondly "I have lived a long and almost happy life. I am ready to meet death with welcome arms."_

_"Say hi to Harry and Ron for me," she told him "And everybody else if they're around."_

_"I expect they'll be watching over you," he told her "While having Albus force lemon drops on them."_

_He had succeeded in making her chuckle slightly as the tears began to fall freely._

_"I wish you luck," he rasped and took his final breath._

It had taken all of her will power not to dissolve into grief as he had asked her not to do, but she managed it none the less.

As soon as she had regained control of herself, she obliviated Ginny and Mr Weasley, so that she was never there. It had been great to see that they were alive and well, and it broke her heart in two when she erased their memories of her visit, but she knew it was for the best. She couldn't lead them into anymore danger until it was necessary.

Hermione set out to locate that book as soon as possible, though she knew that there was no way she would get inside the castle. The security had been bumped up dramatically since the final battle, for what reason, Hermione didn't know, but what she did know was that she was not going to get in there disguised as a student or teacher because dark detectors were plastered in every corridor and behind every tapestry.

Concealment was out.

So she waited. She waited for an opening, for an opportunity, and finally, on the tenth anniversary of Voldemorts prevail over the Boy Who Lived, it came.

Professor Horace Slughorn, long standing potions master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, passed away in his sleep.


	3. Interests and Inquiries

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**Sorry that it's taken a while. This chapter was just a little bit hard to write due to things that are to come and the complex nature of the characters involved.**

**A big huge thank you to** **caseyjarryn who reviewed my last chapter. Remember guys, an author's greatest tool is their audience, so I need your reviews to keep me going.**

**Disclaimer: ****Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.**

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Chapter three:Interests and inquiries

She walked swiftly up to the castle one evening as the stars twinkled in such a manor that would make her former headmaster proud.

She grass whipped from side to side in the strong gusts of wind, but remaind dry in the cold cloudless night.

Hermione made sure that she looked nothing like her former self before she applied for the job that morning, before she applied to be interviewed by Avery and the Dark Lord himself.

She had been prepared for this. She knew that the Dark Lord would search her mind upon entering the Headmaster's office, and she knew that if anyone could get past his mind boggling presence, it was her. While she was abroad, she had learned an obscure branch of Occlumency. It involved creating fake memories and planting them at the most likely places for someone to search.

It was very useful, but sometimes she had a bit of trouble determining what was fact and what was fiction within her own mind.

She made it to the front steps without hinderance, but she was stopped once she reached the doors.

"Name?" a man asked her in a gruff and disgruntled voice.

"Hera Grant," she replied evenly "I'm here to see the Headmaster."

He poked and prodded her with a secrecy sensor. She had been right. Concealment was definitely out.

"Go through," the man grunted at her after a while and she did as she was told, but before she did...

"You couldn't tell me where the headmaster's office is could you?" she asked for effect.

Of course she already knew where it was, but she would give her story away if she didn't ask for directions. She was playing the role of someone who had never attended Hogwarts before.

"Seventh floor," he grunted again "Behind the statue of the gargoyle."

"Thank you," she replied haughtily.

She had never acted haughty her entire life, so this was going to be a challenge. If she was going to make it through this interview alive, let alone get the job, she was going to have to pull on all her acting skills and make sure that she didn't slip up.

Hermione made her way swiftly to the seventh floor, seeing no sign of life within the castle as she went. Being August, she knew that the students would be at home, safe with their parents, but that didn't excuse the fact that she couldn't find any teachers, or any of the house elves that would usually be cleaning by this time of night.

It was odd, but she ignored it and focused on her new goal. She remembered her cover story perfectly, she held her head high as any pure-blood witch would and made sure that she had all her answers in check for when they would be called upon.

She made her way up to the fifth floor staircase, her eyes straight ahead, trying to remember everything that she had planned, hoping that nothing would slip her mind.

She made it to the sixth floor, her heart pounding through her chest with every step she took, praying that they would believe her.

When she finally reached the seventh floor, she was ready to turn around and run straight back out the door.

But she didn't. She had to be brave, so that this nightmare of a life could come to an end.

She stood in front of the stone statue and only then did she realise that she didn't have the password.

"Umm," she mumbled and the gargoyle looked at her impatiently.

"Liquorish wand?" she asked uncertainly.

"Not even close," he said to her, "But the Headmaster already instructed me to let you in."

"Thank you," she sighed with relief as he stepped to the side and gave her access to the spiral staircase.

She could hear two voices from behind the door to the Headmaster's office, but she already knew who they were, so she therefore did not linger to be caught. She put on her bravest and haughtiest face and knocked on the door where she felt her doom awaited her.

"Enter," Avery drawled as he looked up from behind a desk that was not rightfully his.

Hermione did as she was told and made her way inside.

The office looked very much the same as when she had last layed eyes on it. The former Headmasters of the school looking down upon her with interest as she traversed across the floor to get to her almost new employers.

"Ah Miss Grant I presume?" Avery stood from his seat, eying her up and down with interest.

He walked over to where she stood and took her hand, pressing it to his lips.

She had to resist the urge to vomit.

"Yes sir," she said more confidently than she felt "Professor Avery. It is a pleasure to finally meet you in person. I have to say that our correspondence left me wishing to meet you sooner, but alas, we are both very busy people."

"That we are Miss Grant, that we are," he replied with a smile.

She had to admit that he wasn't a bad looking man, even if he was a Death Eater. He had dark hair that was obviously well taken care of and deep brown eyes that would have been rather enchanting, had she not known what he had done to innocent people over the years and he wasn't old enough to be her father.

She then turned her attention to the other who stood before her.

With his scarlet eyes, deathly pale skin and snake like features, he looked just as frightening as ever, though Hermione could still see the trouble in his eyes.

It would have brought a smirk to her face, had she not been so concentrated at the time.

"Miss Grant," he acknowledged, still watching her imperiously.

She stepped forward and bowed to him, low and deep, like a servant to a master, or at least that's how she felt.

With the introductions over with, she was asked, no, _ordered_ to sit.

She sat across from them both, just as she would have done when she was a pupil, as if she had done something horrific, which technically she was. She was going to ask for employment from Lord Voldemort for Salazar's sake!

"Right," Avery started "Let us begin. It said in your file that you had moved from the United States eight years ago, why was that?"

"I got sick of the filth that was running freely through out our streets in New York," she told them, almost mechanically "So once I had finished my potions apprenticeship, I came here, seeking solitude in the empire that our fine Lord here, was slowly building."

"And did you find it?"

"I did. It took me a little while to settle in, but I managed in the end."

She felt the eyes of the former Headmasters and Headmistresses glide across her features. She was surprised that Voldemort hadn't burned Dumbledore's portrait into the ground, but pushed it out of her mind.

It hurt her so much that he and the others were eying her with disgust, but she let it go, remembering that they didn't know who she really was.

The only one who seemed to be looking at her without so much as a wrinkle, was Professor Snape. He was looking at her with interest, but not the same kind as Avery. More like she was some complex puzzle waiting to be solved, rather than a fine piece of woman.

"Who was it you studied under in America?" the Dark Lord asked her.

She looked Professor Snape's portrait form directly in the eye as she gave her answer.

"I learned from the best," she looked away from him then and back to the Dark Lord himself "A man by the name of Aurelius Bode. He was the best. Although I here that the you English did put a lot of store in a man by the name of Snape?"

"He was our pride and joy," the Headmaster spoke fondly and Severus bowed his head in recognition.

"As was Aurelius to us," she responded.

"_Was_?" Avery questioned until he sighed "Ah yes. I remember hearing that he had died just last month. It must have been hard to hear when you were so far away."

"It was," she bowed her head "I would have come forward for the job sooner had it not been for his untimely demise, however that is in the past. It is time to move on."

Voldemort eyed her suspiciously and attempted to enter her mind. She had been waiting for this and pushed the fake memory of her reading a letter and then rushing back to the States to be by his side as he drew his final breath. Much like it had been with Ollivander.

He seemed satysfied with what he saw and exited her mind.

"Why do you think you should have this job?" Avery asked her.

_Because it will help me bring down your sorry backsides,_ she thought.

"Because I can guarantee you that the only person who would know more about potions than myself would be our Lord and Master," she told them "I have a lot to offer the students of this school."

"You are that confident in your abilities?" The Dark Lord mused.

"I am," she told him definitely.

She may not have finished her N.E.W.Ts like she would have wanted to all those years ago, but she was more than confident in her abilities. With Kreacher's help, she had managed to brush up on every potion she had made during all her years at Hogwarts, as well as the ones she would have made when she was absent and she had managed to make a few dark poisons as well, just in case.

She was _more_ than confident in her abilities. She _knew_ that she could beat any body who dared challege her, she just didn't know how much Voldemort knew on the subject. She had heard things from Harry about his brilliance at school, but she didn't know what subjects he preferred over others, therefore it would be a grave mistake to under estimate him, though she was never foolish enough to do so on any subject.

"Did your apprenticeship include knowledge of poisons and dark elixirs?" Voldemort asked her.

"Yes it did," she said unflinchingly. She knew this was coming, "Aurelius made sure that I knew how to brew the most complicated and _excruciatingly painful _poisons and concoctions before he let me lose in the world."

She felt the Dark Lord invade her mind again and she promptly pushed forward another fake memory of her, screaming and writhing in pain as she had to test her own torture brew and Aurelius just stood there and watched with laughter in his eyes, before he administered the antidote.

That one had been inspired by her time in Malfoy Manor.

She had never seen Aurelius Bode in person before, but she managed to find him sometime in the last month and have a few conversations with him, disguised as Hera Grant. He really was a horrible man, but she needed him to help her, and with a little memory modification, he actually did.

Truth be told, she had only modified his memory and the memories of those around him so that the Dark Lord would not be able to catch her out in any lie that she told. But Aurelius was very very old. It seemed that her memory modifacations had actually contributed to his untimely death. She didn't care though, as she said, he was a horrible man.

The Dark Lord exited her mind with a smirk on his face.

"It must have been very painful," he smirked at her "I heard that Bode always made his apprentices test their own potions."

"Then you heard correctly My Lord," she said dakly, though she forced a blush to her tanned cheeks "He enjoyed seeing me in pain, but I hold no grudges. It was for my own good and it made me remember just how much pain I can inflict upon those who do not watch their drinks."

Voldemort smirked at her some more. She had said it with more ice than she was supposed to, but it seemed that he was pleased with her answer. He was looking at her in a different light now, with less skepticism than he had at the beginning of the interview.

"I like this one," he said to Avery shamelessly "She's more ruthless than the others."

"And knows what she's doing," the Dark Lord continued "She has no illusions of greatness with in her mind, it's all true."

She inwardly smirked at this. If only he knew the truth.

"Do we have any others to interview?" He asked Avery.

"No," Avery smiled "Miss Grant was a late entrant."

"Then I think we have found our new Potions Mistress," he smirked again.

It was then that Hermione let herself smile. A proper and true smile that lit up her face. She had fooled them just enough to get through this, perhaps she had what it took to lead them into a false sense of security and actually get away without a scratch.

"Avery," the Dark Lord spoke up "Perhaps you should show your newest employee to her new chambers. I have to leave. There is important business to attend to in France."

"Of course My Lord," Avery smiled and glided over to her side of the desk.

He held out his arm for her to take, and grudgingly, she did.

Voldemort smiled as they left. This would be interesting to say the least.

Avery lead her down the spiral staircase and onto the marble one, talking avidly as they went.

"I have to say," he told her as they descended "You have really impressed me. It seems as though the Dark Lord has taken a liking to you, and he is not easy to please."

She remained silent. She was too happy to even take notice of what he was saying.

"I think it was the last three candidates," he continued "That he ended up killing on the spot. It was something ridiculous, but our wonderful Lord does have his reasons I suppose."

They were walking down to the fifth floor when his next question almost completely floored her.

"Perhaps you would like to have dinner with me tonight to celebrate?" he asked, still smiling graciously at her.

She wanted more than anything to burst out laughing and tell him that she would rather sleep with the giant squid, but she had to maintain her cover if she was going complete her task.

"I'm sorry Professor Avery-"

"Marcus, please," he insisted warmly.

"Marcus then," she forced a smile across her face "It has been a very long day, and I do wish to get some sleep before I even think about celebrating anything."

"Ah," he sighed "Yes I understand. And with the death of your late master may I presume that you wish to have some time to yourself? Rain check then?"

"Yes of course," she smiled again, though it didn't quite reach her eyes.

They descended the staircase quite fluidly and uninhibited by any teachers or students that had come early, until they came down to the first floor.

"Ah Draco," Avery called to a man that had just come out of the neighboring corridor "Come and meet our newest member of staff."

Hermione froze with her arm still locked within Avery's.

The only changes in her former enemy that she could see was that Draco had grown up. His shoulders had become broad, his hair had darkened slightly and his eyes no longer held the hatred for her they had once exhibbited.

Then again she _was_ disguised

To be quite honest, he almost dropped the book he was carrying at the sight of her. It was little worrying considering he was on the other side. The look he was giving her was both curious and frightened at the same time, but Avery it appeared, only had eyes for her.

"Draco Malfoy," he introduced "This is Hera Grant. Hera, is our newest Potions Mistress and Draco is our resident Transfiguration Professor."

They simply stared at each other for a minute, until Draco realised that they were being watched. He extended his hand to her.

"Lovely to meet you Miss Grant," he smiled, though his eyes said something different.

"And you Mr Malfoy," she took his hand and shook "I look forward to working with you."

"Where are you headed now?" he inquired politely, still looking at her too intensely for her liking.

"I was just escorting her," Avery answered "Down to the dungeons to her new quarters."

"I was just heading there myself," Draco implied "Perhaps I could join you?"

At that moment, Avery let out a grunt of pain and clutched his left fore arm.

"Apparently France is in more trouble than we thought," he muttered darkly before turning back to the two of them "Unfortunately, our Lord requires my assistance. Malfoy, if you could please show Miss Grant to the dungeons, I would be most grateful."

With that he absolutely ran down the stairs, not wishing to anger his master when he was in such a good mood.

Draco and Hermione stood there, watching him go for a minute, until Draco offered his arm to her, much in the same way that Avery did, though he was not quite as happy about it as the Headmaster.

They didn't speak when they crossed the Entrance Hall, they didn't even mutter a word as they made it down the stairs to the dungeon. When they finally reached the doors to her rooms however, he muttered something to her, just before he left, that chilled her to the bone.

"Be careful around here. You don't know who may be watching."


	4. Old versus New

**Hello Lovely Readers**

**I know this chapter is short, but it's needed for later scenes. Hopefully you like my poor attempt at intelligent banter**

**Disclaimer:**** Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.**

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Chapter four: Old versus New

It took her a while to register what he had said. Was it just a general warning? Or did he know who she really was?

_No that's just ridiculous_ she told herself, _If he knew who I was, he would have turned me over._

_Then why did he almost drop his book?_ A voice asked in her head.

_Because I'm incredibly attractive?_ She replied uncertainly, but she knew she was wrong, _Ok, because he thought that he was seeing a relation of Harry's. Yeah, that's logical_

_But not probable,_ she reminded herself _This is Malfoy we are talking about here._

She inwardly growled.

"Why do I always have to be right," she muttered to herself just as she walked into her knew chambers.

It was almost everything that she thought it was going to be. There were Slytherin colours everywhere from the walls to the carpet, to the fake window glass to the duvet on the bed. It seemed that everything was covered in silver and green, right down to the old china plates that sat unused in the cupboards.

Leather couches and arm chairs were the center pieces of the living room area and there was a large luxurious bed behind one of the dark mahogany doors covered in many pillows and bed covers.

But only one thing caught her attention.

There, in the study next to the bedroom, were various different portraits, most of which were sleeping in their frames. Hermione didn't know what to make of it, until she saw two of them that she couldn't help but recognise.

The fat, peaceful, sleeping form of Professor Horace Slughorn, and the dark, penetrating eyes of Professor and former Headmaster Severus Snape.

She walked into the room with awe written all over her delicate features.

She had no idea that it was like this in the Slytherin head of house chambers. She thought that it only applied to the Headmaster's office, but then again, it's not as if Snape or Slughorn had ever invited them into their private study.

"Miss Grant," Snape spoke softly, his eyes boring holes into her head.

She simply stared at him. She thought that if she spoke a single word that she may falter and tell him everything and that was out of the question.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said silkily "I trust that you will find my old chambers accommodating."

"They're...Adequate," she teased unintentionally, falling straight into his trap.

He smirked deviantly at her when he got the proof he had been waiting for.

"I thought it was you," he said quietly "I told Dumbledore that it was all a ruse, but ever since Potter died he's been uncharacteristically pessimistic."

She winced at the sound of Harry's name, even if it was his last, something that Snape did not fail to notice.

"You will have to get rid of that twitch if you are to survive here," he told her "Yourself, Potter and Weasley are among one of the Dark Lords favorite dinner conversations."

"I'll just have to avoid having dinner with him then," she muttered.

His face broke into a grin once again at her sarcasm. For a minute there, he thought he saw a small piece of the old Granger that used to subconsciously bait him every lesson. He could always tell by the way she glared at him every time he made a criticism and the odd bit of legilamency always helped.

There was a small silence between them.

"Is it like this in every subject office?" She asked him.

"No," he told her "Just the head subjects. Potions, Transfiguration, Charms and Herbology. Something that the Founders thought would be prudent when they first built the school."

"I never saw anything that was mentioned about this in _Hogwarts: A History_," she told him.

"You wouldn't have," he drawled "The author of the bloody book was never invited inside any of the Head's offices apart from the Headmaster's. It was not seen as important information when it was placed next to the 1792 Triwizard Tournament and the blunders that were made then."

There was another silence between them.

"You are risking everything by coming here," he mused "You have never been one to take a risk unless you deemed it to be necessary."

"Astute observation," she muttered and he smirked again "But you're right, I'm risking everything. I shouldn't even be talking to you."

"It will not make a difference," he told her "You can not obliviate a portrait and in this form, I am no longer bound to the Dark Lord. Your identity is safe in my painted hands."

"He can't hurt you?" she asked softly and he shook his head.

"I was wondering when I would see you walk into that office," he mused "I knew that when Weasley died that you would do anything for revenge, and _that,_ therefore meant staying alive. For a while, I thought that you had disappointed me and perished at the hands of the Dark Lord, or rather his half-breed minions. However when the former Headmasters and myself heard of Finir Greyback's death, I knew that it had to be you."

"Why?" She asked with a snort "No one else willing to cut the bastard's head off?"

"No," he said simply ignoring her sarcasm.

Silence engulfed them once again, until she broke it this time around.

"How did you know it was me?" She asked "Not that I'm complaining."

"I taught you for six years," he told her "Five of which were potions. During third year, Longbottom made his cauldron explode for the third time in a row and as you so idiotically tried to clean up his acidic mess, you managed to get yourself burned and permanently scarred on your left hand."

She unconsciously looked down at her left hand, as if checking it were true. She had completely forgotten about that incident and subconsciously wondered why he took the time to remember.

"To untrained ears it would sound like you were stalking me," she goaded.

"To untrained eyes you look like a pure-blood," he teased back.

She wasn't used to this Snape. Usually in a situation like this he would call her a stupid girl, take valuable points from Gryffindor and curse her out of the castle before she was caught.

This Snape was severely different. She got the impression that he wouldn't try to hex her, even if he could. He was far more polite to her than she was used to as well, but she figured that that came with age and maturity.

However, when she looked back on her years at Hogwarts, she realised that she had never actually had a proper, lengthy and meaningful conversation with the old dungeons bat. That accounted for her lack of comfort in the situation quite nicely.

"You may have taken Potter's hair and Weasley's eyes," he told her "You may have darkened your skin considerably, but certain aspects of your old appearance remain. You are more than fortunate that the Dark Lord barely laid eyes on you at the final battle."

"For that I am truly grateful," she told him as she walked to sit behind the desk in front of her.

"As are we all," he said dryly and she simply rolled her eyes "But if I wanted to hear about your gratitude I would have asked for it. No, what I really wish to know is why you are risking your life by becoming a teacher at Death Eater central."

She almost laughed at his little joke, _almost_. She looked at him seriously for a moment and then bowed her head in thought.

"I'm not sure whether telling you would be wise," she told him "Regardless of whether you are still bound to the Dark Lord or not, you are still bound to the Headmaster of this school-"

"Do you really believe that Avery could have gotten the job so easily?" He cut across her "He is a blibbering idiot who would do anything the Dark Lord asked, whether qualified or not. I'm surprised that the school hasn't burned to a crisp yet. He is not, and never was the rightful Headmaster and, therefore, none of the portraits in his office serve him."

"I don't understand," she told him "If he was appointed by the Dark Lord-"

"The Headmaster's position in this school is very well protected," he explained almost patiently which was odd for him "Only the former headmaster can appoint the new one."

"Ah," she sighed in recognition "So that's why Umbridge had so much trouble and it's just as good of a reason to have the portraits in the office."

Snape nodded.

"Albus appointed me Headmaster before he died," he continued "And I did the same for Minerva McGonagall so that she could command the others in the final battle with out any further trouble, she just didn't hear me say it. She was the rightful Headmistress, not Avery."

"What do you mean 'was'?" She asked him.

"She was diagnosed with Dragon Pox a little less than month ago and was carted off to St Mungo's to die in _peace_," he informed her "Leaving the transfiguration job to Malfoy."

"Is she still alive?" Hermione asked with hope.

"Barely from what I have seen," he told her gravely "She wasn't so ill when she left, but since then she has become considerably worse. So much so that I believe the healers are poisoning her."

"Why?" Hermione asked him "If she is dying anyway-"

"Because no matter how much control the Dark Lord has over the world, a dying woman is still going to be a free woman," he told her quietly "Minerva never accepted him openly, but never disobeyed him either. It was never in her nature to be submissive, especially towards those she despised. Voldemort knew this from his days when they were in school, so when he found out about her illness through Avery, he sent her off."

Hermione bowed her head and nodded in understanding.

"Of course," he continued "This poses a bigger, more frightening prospect."

"And that would be?"

"If she dies without electing another headmaster, then Avery will have complete control of the castle," he told her gravely "And _then_ you will be in trouble."

"I kind of figured that thank you very much," she quipped "Do you know how long she has to live?"

"Three to four months, and that would be pushing it," he told her "I have a portrait hanging in her ward. The Dark Lord's idea, not my own. He wishes me to keep an eye on her condition as it deteriorates."

"And wishes for you to report back any information she may have let slip in her fevers," she muttered, causing him to nod "He's hoping she will unintentionally help him find the rest of the Order."

He nodded again.

"Fat chance," she snorted "I know for a fact that he won't be able to find it through her. She's not the secret keeper. Hell, I don't even think she's a part of the Order anymore."

"How do you know that?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

She stiffened slightly in her seat as she realised her mistake once again.

"My secret," she said evasively.

He smirked at her again, but not for the same reason as before.

"Evidently," he continued "You still haven't told me what you are doing here."

"Evidently," she answered "I'm still not sure as to whether I should."

"Really Miss Granger-"

"As you said," she told him plainly "I will be in enough trouble as it is when Professor McGonagall decides to kick the bucket. You'll just have to wait until I find a way around that little...obstacle."

He looked at her strangely for a moment, but decided that he was not going to win.

"Who escorted you down here?" He asked her all of a sudden.

"Headmaster Avery at first," she replied "But his master decided that he should join him in France, so Malfoy then took over."

"Did he recognise you?" He asked, his slightly wider than before.

She considered him for a moment.

"I'm not sure," she told him "There was something in his eyes that said he knew me, yet he didn't hand me in."

Snape smiled at her, an all knowing smile that was highly annoying.

"You know," she leaned forward in her chair slightly "I think I liked you better when you didn't smile at all."

"So did the Dark Lord," he almost laughed.

She rolled her eyes at him and he smirked.

"Perhaps you could tell me _why _you're smiling?" She asked, not really expecting an answer.

"My secret," he said evasively and she scowled.

They sat in silence for a moment, until she decided that it was now time to let loose a bit.

"You didn't have a secret store of Firewhiskey around the place did you?" She asked him with hope.

He raised his eyebrows in her direction.

"So little miss know it all drinks?" He asked rhetorically "That's a first."

"The first thing my father did before I came to Hogwarts," she told him with a sad smirk "Was teach me how to hold my liquor. He didn't really like the idea of me staying at a mixed boarding school with boys that were much older than I was. He just didn't trust that they would keep their hands off of me if they got enough alcohol in my system."

Snape gave a snort and looked as though he was about to retort, but instead turned his head to the side of his frame for a moment and then turned back.

"Tap your wand underneath the desk three times," he told her "It may not have been used in ten years but I think it will still be satisfactory. There is no way that I could have gotten through sixteen years of teaching without some form of intoxication."

She looked at him in surprise for a moment, until he rose from his emerald green armchair and walked out of his frame.

She simply shrugged it off and did as she was told. To her surprise, he wasn't having her on. Three bottles of Firewhiskey, all unopened descended from a magically concealed drawer under the desk.

Perhaps this would be a little easier than she thought.


	5. Stay out of my way

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**I am very sorry for the wait, I have had a lot of trouble trying to get the feel for this chapter right, and once you read it you will understand that it had to be right in order to set the story in motion. I hope its quaility makes up for its late arrival.**

**Disclaimer:**** Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.**

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Chapter Five: Stay out of my way

_She was surrounded by an all consuming darkness. It was unrelenting, hellish and frightening beyond belief._

_She knew that there was light behind her, but her body wouldn't turn, even as her mind screamed at her to move. She could feel it, almost touch it and yet without actually seeing it, she was afraid that it would disappear and leave her alone, clouded in shadow._

_Its heat radiated onto her body, but the darkness that surrounded her kept her from feeling the warmth that it would have sent to her soul._

_With no hope of turning to its comfort, she ventured forward._

_She felt grass beneath her bare feet and the dampness of dew that coated its blades. The long white dress that covered her body whipped around in the seemingly windless night, making her even more uneasy as she ventured on into the darkness._

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a speckle of light. It was bright and orange with flecks of red, and this time, her body allowed her to turn and gaze at it's beauty._

_A voice in her mind told her to venture forward and explore the wonders it may hold. It told her that it would guide her back to her soft bed and see her safe and sound as she knew the other light would have if she had turned, but another told her that the voice was lying._

_Her other side told her that not all light was good, that this one should be feared._

_She didn't know what to do, so she simply stood there and waited for the answer to come to her, and it did._

_Out of nowhere, whispers that were not her own, began to invade her mind. Shadows of nameless origins passed her eyes that she could not escape nor fight as she watched them flit in and out of her vision._

_The whispers became well spoken words and the well spoken words became shouts and wails of grief, so deafening that not even her own thoughts could break through their penetrating screams of despair._

_Her mind worked ferverishly to try and block them out, to try and will them away but they would not budge as long as she stood still._

_The voice inside her head came back to her once again as she stared longingly at the orange light. It told her to go to it, that the screaming would cease and the images would fade away if she could simply touch it, caress it with a single finger._

_She tried to listen for the other side's advice, but it was nonexistent. Silenced by the screams of anguish and pain. She reasoned that she would be able to hear it again, once she had made all the noise dissipate and so she made her way towards the light, striding at first, then running as the voices in her head became louder and louder to the point of madness._

_The moment she reached it, she wished she had stayed put._

_The light wasn't a light, it was a fire and it was feeding off of charred remains._

_The smell of his burnt flesh hit her nostrils at full force and made her wish to be sick to relieve the ache in her heart._

_His vibrant green eyes had been replaced by darkened, coal like holes._

_There was no longer a messy black mop of hair on his head. It had been burned to the point of nonexistence and left a skull that had been caved in, in its place._

_What was left of his lips and jaw muttered only one word..._

_"Hermione..."_

She had to force herself not to scream as she shot up in her bed that night, her night dress drenched in sweat, her sheets soaked down to every thread with her tears of fear, some still glistening in her eyes.

She had covered her eyes the night of the final battle, when Voldemort had burned Harry's body to a crisp. She had never wanted to see her friend that way, ever. But now she had, and the images would haunt her mind forever.

She had never felt so alone, not even when she was in her tent for years without company. Then, she had always her mind and her books to keep her company, but now she was afraid of what her mind may show her, and her books...they were not what she needed.

Hermione had never had nightmares before in her life, not even when she was a small child. She had always been too logical to let children's myths such as the boogie man and the monster under her bed get to her. This was the first time in her entire life that she was afraid to sleep, afraid to dream.

When she had calmed down enough to think coherently, she decided that there was no point in just sitting there inside her bed, knowing that she would no longer find sleep that morning. As she looked at the clock on her wall as it struck three, she realized that she would be getting up in two hours anyway to search the library for what seemed like the hundredth time.

She had been through every isle, searched every crack and crevice for the blasted volume for about a week or so, and still, it continued to elude her, evade her and drive her insane with it's absence.

Still shaking, the witch put on her dressing gown and moved into her living room, where she had left her shoes.

She had decided that it would be prudent to get something to eat, perhaps search the library a bit earlier today, and maybe she could avoid Avery just that little bit longer.

He had been asking her out to all the meals he could possibly think of as well as stoles around the lake for as long as she had taken up residence in the castle. But she had managed to find a plausible excuse every time without giving him the opinion that she was avoiding him.

_Oh I'm sorry, I have to unpack...I'm awfully sorry, but there's a doxy infestation in the curtains that needs taking care of...You know what, your old potions master was such a slob, the storage cupboard needs cleaning out...I have to get rid of a boggart that's decided to nest in the top drawer of my desk, rain check?_

She had a feeling that he was becoming a little bit impatient with all the things she supposedly had to do, but until she could come up with a permanint reson, he was just going to have to deal with it.

She moved quickly around her rooms, grabbing fresh clothing and her cloak, making sure everything was in order. She changed into her dress as soon as possible, not enjoying the cold that licked her skin as she did so, hoping that it would be enough to keep her warm through out the castle, but even if it wasn't she could use a simple warming charm.

She longed for the days where she could just lounge around in a pair of jeans and a baggy jumper she had stolen from either Harry or Ron, or better yet, when she could huddle up in between them next to the fire. Those days had been the best.

She checked twice over that everything was in order before she left, setting up her wards as she went. It was more out of habbit than anything else; Being in a tent for the past ten years had made her more cautious. She couldn't help but think that Mad-eye would be proud, or at least pleased with her constant vigilance.

She walked silently through the halls, intending to go to the library for another search, but she stopped herself when she reached the creeky, wooden doors. She didn't want to go to the library, and she had a feeling that she could search the bloody place as much as she liked and she would still never find it.

_Knots and all_ was proving to be one very difficult book.

She sighed. There was no point in going to the library, after all, she had read every book it had to offer by the end of fifth year and even though _Hogwarts: A History_ was an old favorite, it just didn't hold the same joy as it did before. Not when she couldn't tell Ron and Harry off for thinking that you could apparate in and out of Hogwarts.

She softly laughed to herself, remembering all the times she had to remind them of that little fact, but then the dream came back to her and she shivered. It had been so cruel to let her see him like that, so horrible. She knew that she would never see him the same way again.

So if she was not going to go to the library, where could she spend her morning? In the kitchens with the house elves? In the Room of Requirement? Or perhaps a walk around the lake would make her feel better? Yes the lake definitely sounded good.

She turned on her heel and made her way swiftly down the marble staircase once again, seeing so many things that reminded her of her school days.

It wasn't until now that she realised how painful it was to be back, to be reminded of all the things they got up to.

The third floor corridor that had once contained the three headed dog Fluffy, that had once guarded the Philosopher's Stone. It had been their first adventure, and to her, it was the most precious.

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, which held the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. She would always remember how Myrtle would spray toilet water over the three of them while they were brewing the Polyjuice Potion.

The Astronamy Tower, where she and Harry had given Sirius his freedom. It hurt so much to think that he would be taken away from them again only two years later.

The Quidditch pitch where Harry had disappeared from during the last task of the Triwizard tournament. The whole debacle with the fake Mad-eye Moody could only make her smirk at the memory of her 'should have been former Professor.' He taught constant vigilance and yet _he_ was the one that ended up in the bottom of a trunk.

The Forbidden Forest, where she had lead Umbridge to a well deserved fate. She never heard what had happened to her there, but she couldn't have imagined that the centaurs had been pleasent after she had called them a bunch of filthy half-breeds.

And the grounds...The moon lit, fertile grounds of Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry. The final resting place of Albus Dumbledore, and the place Voldemort tortured and burned Harry's body into nothingness. It was the hardest place to be of all. Remembering all that had taken place the night of the final battle, all the lives that had been lost, it was all too much.

Just too much.

She sat down by the lake, not intending to move at all. She no longer had the strength to walk around the vast valley of water.

"Too much blood has been spilt on these fields," came a voice from behind her.

She almost jumped ten feet in the air at his declaration. When she turned to see his pale face, she couldn't believe that it was him holding that expression of sadness.

"The final battle," Malfoy went on as he sat next to her, gazing out into the lake, "It was a massacre, and an unnecessary one at that."

"But that's not how our Lord sees it," she told him softly, avoiding his gaze at all costs.

"Is that how you see it?" He asked her, and she felt it would be better to feign deafness.

He looked as though he was about to say something, but kept his mouth shut, thinking it a wiser decision.

"He could have won easily," He told her after a while, with venom written all over his calm words, "All he had to do was storm the castle, grab Potter and go. After that, no one would have opposed him."

"Yes they would have," she countered, making him look at her strangely "He had to make them fight, bring them down while they were at their strongest. Show them that he was unbeatable..."

She trailed off, unable to stop her mind from slipping back to that day.

"If the Dark Lord had simply just taken Potter and killed him," she told him softly, keeping up her act "He would have had more of a resistance on his hands than what he did in the beginning. There were many people who loved him...Who would have died for him."

Draco was looking at her strangely again, like he had the first day he had met her...again.

"Or-or so I hear," she quickly covered.

"Do you agree with how the Dark Lord took over? Would you have used the same methods?" Draco asked her.

It was almost as if he was declaring his allegiance to the other side. The way he was talking was just so unlike him. It was then that she knew that he had either grown up, or was leading her on, so she kept her answers neutral.

"I don't, _agree _with it, so much as I _understand_ it," she told him "He is a genius our lord, you can't deny it."

"No," he muttered, "I can't."

They sat there in silence for a moment, simply staring out at the lake, enjoying the view. Never in a million years did she think that she would be sitting with Draco Malfoy, in comfortable silence, at three in the morning. The whole thing was just so out of place, out of order.

A question then popped into her mind.

"Mr Malfoy-"

"Draco, please," he cut her off, almost smiling.

She was a little unnerved by his suggestion, but hid it well. They had always been on last name basis, why change that now? But then she remembered who she was pretending to be.

"Draco then," she said quietly "Why are you up at three in the morning? Discussing things that could more than likely get us both killed at that?"

He frowned slightly.

"I could ask you the same question," he countered and then waited for a response.

She didn't know whether to be honest, tell a half truth or down right lie. Any wrong move she made could be fatal. She would have to ask Severus later how he played spy for seventeen years and didn't get caught or go insane.

"I had a nightmare," she told him "I couldn't go back to sleep."

"I haven't been able to sleep properly in the last ten years," he told her "I not since the final battle."

"You were there?" she asked feigning ignorance, to which he nodded.

"I was just seventeen at the time," he told her "I had been roped into the Dark Lord's service the year before, not willingly, but not forcibly either. Things happened, things changed, and before I knew it, I was involved in something that should have had nothing to do with me, something that I wanted no part of, hell I wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for Potter and his friends."

"You don't want to be a part of the Dark Lord's regime?" She asked him in shock, ignoring what he had said about Harry saving him.

Draco was taking an awful risk by speaking to her this way. If she had been anyone else, he would be hanging by his thumbs in the dungeons by now and it made her curious as to why he chose her to speak to.

"I used to think that he was the answer to all our problems," he told her "But when he won, when he destroyed Potter's body...I knew he was a mad man, I knew that I had made a big mistake in following him."

Hermione felt tears coming to her eyes, and she did as best she could to push them back, knowing that she would have to leave soon.

"I wasn't fond of Potter," Draco continued "Truth be told, I hated him. I hated everything he stood for, everything that he was, but I wouldn't wish that fate upon anyone, not even him. But that's not what kept me from dreaming all these years."

She looked up at him now, only to see that he was looking her straight in the eye. Blue met grey in a moment of understanding that both would ponder later.

"What stopped you from sleeping?" She asked him softly.

His gaze stayed firm within hers as he answered.

"Potter had two friends when he was at school," he told her, just a little above a whisper "They would've done anything for him, died for him if given the chance. One of them, a girl...When the Dark Lord destroyed her best friend...The look in her eyes..."

She held his gaze as he spoke, seeking some form of lie in his eyes, in his voice, but it never came, she knew sincerity when she saw it, and this was the mother load.

"It was a cold stare," he continued "A cold, blank stare, the most haunting thing I've ever seen in my life. hopelesness was written all over her face, it was chilling. She never gave up on anything,_ ever_, and to see that look on someones face who was once so strong..."

He brought his hand up to her cheek and grazed it against her soft skin.

"I never want to see it again," he whispered softly.

She was suddenly aware of how close they actually were, the possible secret meaning behind his words and what he was so dutifully implying and she pulled away to look back out at the lake.

"So what happened to these friends of his?" She asked him shakily, unnerved by the moment.

Draco shut his eyes in disappointment for a moment and sighed. He then returned his eyes to the glistening waters of the lake.

"Ron Weasley was captured only minutes after Potter died," he told her with a heavy heart, "I wasn't much fond of him either, but he never deserved what he got."

"What _did_ he get?" She asked, fearing the answer.

She had never actually been told what had happened to Ron. All she knew was that he was captured and his body was dumped in a river a week later...She having been the one who found it.

"They tortured him," he told her "They used the crutiatus curse as much as possible, but they used muggle torture as well. They were looking for information on his girlfriend, Potter's other friend, who had been able to escape, but he never gave it to them. He lied and protected her until the day he lost his sanity. I can only think of one person who loved her more at that time and he was already dead."

Hermione felt tears sting her eyes again, and tried as hard as she could to hold them back, but Malfoy did not miss the lone one that slid down her cheek before she could stop it. He didn't say anything though, he didn't even ask why she was crying, he just continued.

"I visited him in the dungeons when I could," he continued "He and Potter and Granger had saved my life once, and even though I couldn't save his, I had to do something. So I went down to the dungeons and tried to keep him going, gave him water and food, things like that to try and make it easier...It didn't though. He still died."

There was a small pause in which he took a deep breath.

"The other one, Hermione Granger," he continued "She was the brightest witch of our age, and I think that's why she lasted as long as she did. Weasley sent her into the floo network before the Death Eaters got to her. She managed to stay on the run for about a month, until she ran into a few werewolves that ripped her limb from limb...Or so the rumour goes."

"You don't believe it?" She asked him shakily.

Draco smirked at her.

"When I say she was smart, I mean _really_ smart," he told her "Seconded only by Dumbledore and the Dark Lord himself in my opinion. If I know her, and I'd like to think I do, considering she punched me out in third year, she would've faked her own death and she'll be in hiding somewhere, waiting for an opportunity to finish what Potter started."

She looked up at him again, though he was still staring at the lake with the signature Malfoy smirk.

"Do you think she'll succeed?" She asked, all president of secrecy gone from her mind.

His smirk turned into a smile as he turned back to her.

"If you have help," he told her, finally admitting what he had thought all along, "You can't carry it on your own, no matter how hard you try."

Her breath hitched in her throat when she stood, trying to gain control of herself and her emotions, doing her damnedest to keep up her façade.

Malfoy stood up after her and reached for her arm as she tried to leave.

"I know it's you," he told her, as he swung her around to face him "I knew it was you the moment I saw you walk down those steps. I may not be as smart as you Granger, but I'm not an idiot."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she tried to deny, but it was no longer as strong as it would have been if he hadn't worked her up so badly.

"You are a terrible liar when you're emotional Granger," he chuckled softly.

She stared at him with fear in her eyes, which he didn't fail to notice.

"I knew you were alive the moment they brought Greyback's head back in a separate bag to his body," he told her "Don't forget that I was there the day they brought you to the manor."

How could she possibly forget that he was there the day Bellatrix had tortured her within an inch of her life? She would never forget _any_ detail of the day she came so close to death.

"So what now?" She asked savagely, "You hand me over to your Lord and master?"

"Weren't you listening?" He asked her, looking almost enraged by her accusation, "I don't want anything to do with him, I haven't since the day he won!"

She stared at him coldly in the face, his expression just as stony as her own. His only softened when he saw that tears were threatening to spill over the borders of her oceanic irises.

He moved his hands to her shoulders.

"Forget my past and what I've done," he told her "I'm offering to help you here, and lets face it Granger, you need all the help you can get."

"And how do I know that this isn't a trap?" She asked him with malice "How can I possibly trust you after everything that you have done? You said it yourself, you never liked Harry or Ron or me, so why would you want to help me now, why now, after all these years? After all this time that you have supposedly hated his reign over wizard kind?"

"Because I have been waiting," he told her softly, "Like you, I have been waiting for the right moment. Potter and Weasley were right to leave the job to you."

She looked away from, the stony glare upon her face slowly fading into the shadows of the night.

She hated that what he spoke was the truth, she hated knowing that it was up to her and her alone, but a sly voice in the back of her mind told her that maybe, just maybe, she didn't have to do it alone. But doubt crept its way back into her thoughts, something that Malfoy did not fail to see.

"If I wanted to let him know," he told her, rolling up his left sleeve "Then that would have already happened."

The Dark Mark, as plain as day and as horrible as ever was imprinted on his forearm. She couldn't help but let out a gasp. Harry had been right, he was a Death Eater.

"I made a mistake," he told her, with more sincerity, more conviction, than she had ever heard, "Please, let me correct it, let me help you."

She looked down at the skull and serpentine tongue with disgust for a moment and then looked at his face with a completely different expression. Regret.

"If you want to help me," she told him coldly, wrenching herself from his grasp, and stepping backwards, "Then stay out of my way."

She then ran up to the castle as fast as she could, vowing never to leave her rooms at three in the morning ever again.


	6. Mental conversations

**Hello Lovely Readers**

**I am so very sorry for the wait. This chapter and this story have actually been giving me a lot of trouble lately. I know how the story is going to go and what's going to happen, it's just a matter of getting there without speeding everything along too much. Regardless of my difficulties, I hope you enjoy it and I hope it was worth the wait.**

**Disclaimer: ****Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.**

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Chapter Six: Mental conversations

She kept true to her word from then on. Not once, not even when she had had several nightmares in one night, did she leave her rooms at three in the morning. For some odd reason, her dreams would always haunt her then, never any earlier or later, almost making her scream as she saw Harry's burning body over, and over again.

It was never the same dream twice though. She would find herself in different situations each night, but always ending up in the same place, and each time, it chilled her very existence.

A few more weeks passed until the brink of the new term was upon them. Hermione was so busy preparing for her days as the soon to be Potions Mistress, that she no longer attended meals anymore which was more to her advantage when avoiding certain blonds and Headmasters. Said Headmaster, though as idiotic as ever, was quick to comment on this change in eating habbits, though she tried to ignore and avoid him as much as possible.

It really did annoy him that he could be out smarted so easily, and Hermione loved every minute of his embarrassment.

It had become clear to her that she was no longer going to be able to just grab the book and go as she had planned, seeing as said book was proving impossible to find, so she had decided to stay at Hogwarts and find other methods of forging wands.

So far she had found several books that had been of some help. They were focused on _making_ and _fixing_ wands and had no information on _merging _them, but they still held the basic principles of wand lore.

So far, she had managed to make the basic outer casing of a wand, but was unable to insert the core without being thrown several meters across the room, but that was the least of her troubles.

Malfoy had tried to speak to her since her first nightmare, but she avoided him just as much as Avery these days. Hermione was starting to believe that just staying in her quarters would be better than having to avoid those two. When one was there, the other would be lurking around the corner and she didn't know which one of them was worse.

The creepy headmaster who was trying to get in her pants...

Or the former enemy who held her success in his hands.

Every time she saw the two of them, whether they were together or not, she would always turn in the opposite direction and it seemed to really piss them off.

She knew though, that she was going to run out of places to hide soon if she wasn't careful.

But no matter how much Malfoy insisted that he would be able to help, she just couldn't bring him into this. It was dangerous enough as it was for _her_, she was not going to let another person be put in harm's way.

At this moment however, she was being forced to sit in between both he and Avery at the head table for the opening feast to the new year.

In the past, she had always enjoyed September the first. Even when it was no longer her first year, she always loved to watch the young ones be sorted into their respective houses, but seeing as there was to be no sorting, she generally was not looking forward to the evening. There was no doubt in her mind that it would be filled with idle chatter of torture and punishment, maybe the odd word of the day The-Boy-Who-Lived-And-Snuffed-It died.

Even the Dark Lord himself was there to witness the opening feast, sitting in the headmaster's seat like the king he believed himself to be. She had to exercise all her self control not to snort at the way he was sitting, with his nose in the air, as though he was god's gift to the rest of the world.

_More like the devil's curse,_ she thought to herself, trying very hard to stifle a snicker that threatened the border of her lips.

Malfoy seemed to notice the smile on her face and turned to her.

"What's funny?" He asked her.

She looked at him a little bit, contemplating his words.

"No ulterior motive in talking to you," he told her quietly, "I promise. What's funny?"

She bit her lip and then answered.

"You wouldn't get it," she whispered, "It's a bookworm thing."

He rolled his eyes and continued to watch as the students filed in, apprehension written all over their faces.

There was no sign of glee or happy chatter with this ceremony, as all the children seemed to be frozen with fear as they came to gaze upon Voldemort. They took one look into his fearsome, evil face and quickly looked the other way, fearing that if they stared too long that he would murder them on the spot. He seemed to roll his eyes at this, making Hermione think that he had no tolerance for children, which made him appoint Avery as full time headmaster instead of himself.

When all were seated, Voldemort rose from his- no _Dumbledore's_ chair, and began to speak, commanding attention with every word.

"Today," he told them all, "We embark upon a new journey, as we always do, into a new year of Pure-blood supremacy. Securing the ancient secrets of education..."

Hermione let her thoughts trail off as she tried to listen to his somewhat boring speech. It seemed that unless he was shouting at the castle or rallying Death Eaters, he was a rather unmotivated public speaker, then again, it could have been that she just didn't want to hear him go on about dirty mud-bloods for the entire feast.

"Our staffing changes this year," he rose his voice, causing her to flutter out of her day dream, "Include Professor Draco Malfoy who will teach Transfiguration," Draco stood to the student's half hearted applause, "And Professor Hera Grant, who is now our Potions Mistress," Hermione stood as well and made a polite bow to the little group of pure-bloods.

Staff introductions seemed to be the end of it all, as mountains of food appeared out of nowhere upon the once empty golden plates in front of her, and chatter once more resumed.

It seemed that the Dark Lord wasn't going to eat a thing and was simply there to invoke his frightening presence upon all those in the room, but that didn't bother her in the slightest. Who wanted to see the devil dine anyway?

Hermione was quickly engaged in conversation with Avery who just would not leave her alone. He kept indicating that he wished to spend time with her alone and she still feigned ignorance, much to the amusement of the Dark Lord who was smirking just a seat away.

"How have you been settling in Miss Grant?" Voldemort asked her as his eyes roamed over the hall, finally coming to rest on her, interrupting Avery's rant about the beauty of the Hogwarts lake at night.

Hermione was a little taken aback by the consideration but formed her mask perfectly and answered.

"Rather well My Lord," she informed him, "Though I must say that your previous potions professors wouldn't have known organisation if it threw them off of the Astronomy Tower."

Malfoy smirked, Avery laughed and the Dark Lord merely continued to scan the Great Hall with his snake like eyes.

"Indeed," Avery told them all, "So much so that I have barely seen you Miss Grant. Perhaps tonight would be best for those celebration drinks that you promised me over a month ago?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Dark Lord raise what would have been an eyebrow if he had any hair, and wait for her response. There was just one problem...She didn't have one! She had run out of excuses completely about a week ago when she had told Avery that she needed to go to the little witch's room when he asked her out to Hogsmeade. What the hell was she going to do now?

"Sorry Professor," Malfoy suddenly stepped in to aid her, "I already have her engaged this evening."

The entire table, excluding Voldemort who was still listening intently, turned to look at him in bewilderment, Hermione being a little more subtle than the rest of them.

"Professor Grant promised to help me out with a few organisational projects of my own," he told them all, "And I promised her a few drinks afterwards."

Hermione didn't know what to think. Should she be scared that she was going to spend a few hours in Malfoy's quarters...Or should she be grateful that she was going to spend a few hours in Malfoy's quarters? Then again, she could always do as she did to Avery and ask for another time, just to go with the headmaster. No, that was definitely out of the question when she knew _exactly_ what was on _his_ mind.

Why did all the men in this castle have to be so bloody confusing? Hermione didn't know what to feel about who anymore.

Avery on the other hand, knew exactly what he was feeling. She could see that he was not at all happy about her _promise_. Perhaps he thought that she was supposed to _promise_ a few things to him instead?

"Very well," he spoke through gritted teeth, "Perhaps another time, as always?"

She nodded and returned to her stew.

Life was going to be hell if she didn't stay cautious...and come up with more excuses

Suddenly, she felt a presence within her mind. She surreptitiously put up her walls, pulling the invader into a maze of things that were false.

_"You have been avoiding Avery well," _The dark lord spoke within her mind, _"Not every woman succeeds this long without either melting to his charms or being fired. His pathetic affections must be stuck on you."_

_"I wouldn't understand why My Lord,"_ she projected back to him, as though mental conversations such as these were the most natural thing in the world, _"I have not shown him the least bit of interest."_

_"You believe he should look somewhere else?"_

_"I believe he is dreaming if he thinks he has a chance with myself. My standards are impeccable and I am not some mudblood that would reduce herself to sexual favours just to keep her job."_

She hated speaking this way, but she had to admit that at least some of it was the truth. She would never be reduced to whoring herself, not even to save the world. She had only ever been with one man and it would stay that way. Regardless of what Harry had thought, that first night in Grimmauld Place had not been as innocent as hand holding and falling asleep next to each other.

_"And how high do your standards truly climb?" Voldemort asked of her, "Who would you give your illusion of love to?"_

_"None but those who are deserving," she replied, "And they are few. But let us be honest, Professor Avery does not 'love' me. He simply likes what he sees."_

_"And what of Malfoy?" He asked with slight scorn, "Does he like what he sees?"_

OK, so Hermione was not expecting that, but she quickly found a response.

_"All men in this castle like what they see," she told him, "And it disgusts me to no end. Take a look at the second row of seventh years my Lord."_

He did as he was advised, only to see several young men looking her up and down with interest. One was even trying to make seductive kissy faces at her which she was finding rather hard not to laugh at.

_"I see your point Miss Grant," he mused, with a slight look of disgust on his face at what he had been directed to, "I will deal to them personally after the feast. Perhaps then they will remember to respect their superiors."_

Slight panic rushed through her heart as she realised that he would probably kill them. They were just giving her a little flack, surely he could understand that? Oh wait, no, this is the Dark Lord Voldemort we are talking about here. The one that sold his soul to the devil at age fifteen.

_"No My Lord, please," she asked of him quickly, "I would very much love the pleasure of dealing to them myself, if you would grant me that satisfaction?"_

She saw him smirk out of the corner of her eye as she continued to eye the boys in fake maliciousness.

_"Only if you would allow me to be present Miss Grant," he asked of her with glee, "If I can not have the pleasure myself, I would very much like to see it."_

That made her panic as well, but perhaps not as much. At least this way, the boys would not die from over torture.

_"As you wish my Lord," she answered with just as much glee, as if the idea of him watching her torture the boys would give her more pleasure than he could imagine._

With that, he ended the connection between them and returned to gazing around the hall once more. It was unnerving that he could just flit in and out of her mind like that, but what made her even more _un_easy was how _easy_ it was to lie to him, almost _too_ easy. It was something that would require further investigation. Maybe she would get lucky and simply find out that she was a brilliant actress?

She continued to nurse her stew as the feast went on and looked around the students, silently preying that each and every one of them did as they were told. She hated to think of what would happen to them if they were caught out of bed at night by one of the Carrows.

Speaking of which...

"Have you had a look at our new punishment regime Professor Grant?" Amycus asked her, "I dare say that it's the best that this school has ever seen."

She resisted the urge to swing around and hit him as she had hit Draco in third year, and answered his question as politely as she possibly could.

"I have seen it," she told him with a note of cruelty in her voice, "But I find it rather tedious and uncreative."

They just stared at her in disbelief.

"How so?" Avery asked her, intrigued by her response.

"There are other ways of punishing people rather than hanging them by their thumbs in the dungeon," she told them.

Amycus and Alecto looked a little bit offended by her outrageous suggestion.

"What would you suggest Miss Grant?" She heard the Dark Lord ask her, as he gazed at her intently.

She felt all eyes on her, including those of Flitwick and Sprout who were huddled together trying to size her up.

"Personally," she answered, "I find that messing with ones mind is far more satisfying than giving them bruises or broken bones. Mental scars never heal and it is far more fun to see your victim cower before you because _you_ have become their deepest fear, not because they can not control their nervous system. Physical punishment has it's limitations where as the mind is _limitless_."

There was a hidden meaning behind her words which she was sure only Draco could have picked up.

Bellatrix Lestrange had a talent for torturing not only the body, but a person's sanity as well and she took pleasure in every scream. She hadn't only destroyed her body that day in Malfoy manor, she had almost obliterated her conscious mind. She would never forget the day she was tortured within an inch of her life, but most of all, she would never forget the day she was tortured within an inch of her sanity.

They all just stared at her in disbelief, not really believing that she could sound so cruel. Hermione didn't really believe it herself. If she ever layed eyes upon her again, she decided that she must thank Bella for her wonderful insight into torture.

She could already feel the Dark Lord pushing at the borders of her mind for another conversation.

_"Something you learned from dear Aurelius I suppose?" He asked her, the old man's reputation having preceded him._

_"Over and over again," she answered "His constant mixture of the Illusion Elixir and torture curse provided an excellent punishment for me when I was disrespectful or disobedient."_

Obviously Aurelius had never done such a thing to her, but _she_ had done that to Greyback before he died and it produced interesting results.

_"I can imagine," the Dark Lord mused "What would you do specifically to students who were out of bed after curfew?"_

She thought for a moment, trying to come up with something completely vial, but failing miserably.

_"I'd go with the crutiatus curse for a few minutes for something as minor as that," she told him._

_"You disappoint me Miss Grant," she could almost feel the smirk on his face._

_"Note that I said _minor,_ My Lord," she told him, "Basic physical punishment would suffice for something like that."_

He seemed to pause and think for a little bit and then came back to her with another scenario.

_"What if," he proposed to her, "You found a male prefect with a female student in a broom cupboard at three in the morning."_

_"I'd find out if both were there willingly before I did anything at all," she answered almost instantly, surprising even herself with the edge in her tone._

_"Would it make a difference in their punishments?" He asked her, his eyes finding hers at the table._

_"Yes," she told him, "If both were there of their own accord then they would receive a bit of Illusion elixir and a dose of crutiatus."_

_"And if one was not?" He asked her in an almost curious tone._

_"Then the one that forced the other," she told him darkly, "Would be treated to enough nightmare tonic to keep them awake for the rest of the year, and they would be trapped in a room with a dementor for a complete month, leaving their nightmares to haunt them even as their eyes lay open. I have no tolerance for kidnapping, nor potential rape."_

The Dark Lord closed their connection and smirked at her. It seemed that he was beginning to like her more and more. She hoped that he didn't come to like her _too_ much and ask her to become a Death Eater. Hermione really didn't know if she could take the dark mark without screaming her head off.

The other members of staff looked from her to Voldemort in odd fashions, making her realise that Dark Lords smirking at Professors was not a common experience at the Hogwarts dining table.

Though once more, she couldn't help but admit that what she had told Voldemort was the truth. She had seen what rape had done to certain girls back in her time at Hogwarts (Evil little Death Eaters in the making having been responsible,) and had no tolerance for men acting as vicious animals at all. In Hermione's opinion, death was too good for pigs like them. They deserved every little ounce of suffering that was given to them. She only wished she could go back in time to punish Theodore Nott herself for what he did to Hannah Abbott.

The feast ended soon after, with all students and teachers piling out the door, Hermione on Draco's arm as they left. She could feel Avery's eyes on her as she moved swiftly at Draco's pace, trying not to hit little first years as she went. She knew that Avery was pissed, she knew that he wouldn't stand for this much longer, but if Draco was willing to give her an excuse to stay away from him, even if it was just for tonight, she would take it.

She turned her head away from him, looking at the little ones as they scurried to get to their prefects.

"Thank you," she muttered, unable to hold it in much longer.

"You're welcome," he told her without even flinching, "You can pay me back when we get to my rooms."

That sentence would have been misinterpreted if she hadn't caught the icy undertone that lay beneath its surface, but she was never one to forget the subtleties of a Slytherin. Especially not the Slytherin Prince of her day.

They walked in silence up to the fourth floor where Transfiguration teachings would take place tomorrow morning, all the new and old students filling the empty desks, some eager and some...not. Hermione could still remember the first day where Harry and Ron had walked in late...

When they were out of sight of the Headmaster and the Dark Lord, Hermione went to move away from his arm, but Draco held her firmly in place.

"The walls have eyes," he whispered to her quietly, secretly pointing to the portraits that were eyeing them suspiciously, that undertone having returned to his soft words.

"Do they have ears as well?" She asked him sarcastically.

She was surprised to hear a soft snicker emanate from his lips.

"Some," was all he said in return.

And so they continued to walk arm in arm, in silence, each contemplating what the evening would hold. Suddenly, Hermione felt something small, yet heavy, collide with the skirt of her long dress and they stopped walking.

Hermione looked down into the eyes of a first year with hair of dark wood and amber eyes.

Amber eyes. Eyes that she recognised, eyes that she trusted, eyes that she knew better than anyone else's in this castle.

"Teddy..."


	7. Dangerous Games

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**Sorry this chapter took so long, but at least it was up sooner than my last one! I hope you don't hate me for what I'm about to do to our lovely Hermione. Anywho, please review my wonderful lovely readers, and I'll try and get a few replies in while I'm her.**

**Disclaimer:Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind**.

* * *

Chapter seven: Dangerous games

_"It's a Boy! We've named him Ted after Dora's father!"_

_Hermione shrieked._

_"Wha- Tonks- Tonks has had the baby?"_

_"Yes, yes, she's had the baby!" Shouted Lupin. All around the table came cries of delight, sighs of relief: Hermione and Fleur both squealed "Congratulations!" and Ron said "Blimey, a baby!" as if he had never heard of such a thing before._

_It was easily the happiest piece of news Hermione had heard ever since this war started and she couldn't wait to see the little one. _

_It wasn't until a few drinks later that Remus approached her. She had been clearing away the empty glasses when Remus entered the kitchen behind her._

_"Tonks and I are both in agreement," he told her as he started to dry the goblets by hand rather than magic, "That Harry is going to be the godfather."_

_Hermione beamed at him._

_"He'll be so pleased," she told him, "And really honoured that you thought of him."_

_Remus smiled._

_"But we were having a little trouble deciding on a god mother," he told her, "I know Fleur would be happy, as would Molly, but she has enough kids as it is, and I can imagine that my son would probably love Fleur a little _too_ much, with her being a veela and all."_

_Hermione stopped her muggle washing and turned to him with a quizzical look. _

_He beamed down at her and gave her a big hug._

_"I want it to be you," he told her softly._

And she had accepted with a loud squeal and a promise that she would do a brilliant job. But she hadn't. Hermione had forgotten all about little Teddy Lupin the day she lost everything else and as she gazed upon him now, a sense of guilt erupted within her veins.

He looked at her, slightly scared that she had uttered his name when he hadn't even introduced himself. He looked from Malfoy to Hermione at a rapid speed and as a result, his hair changed from dark chocolate brown, to midnight black with white blond streaks.

Remus had been right though, he looked a lot like Tonks.

"I'm not Teddy," he lied feebly, "I'm Thomas."

All she could do was stare, and he did exactly the same. He had no idea who she was, for that she was certain; He had only been a few months old when the final battle took place, there was no way that he would have remembered her.

Draco gave a soft cough and cleared his throat, subconsciously reminding her that she was still staring at Teddy.

"I," she began but stopped herself from apologizing when she remembered what Malfoy had said as she took a look at a portrait that was glaring at her specifically.

"Watch where you are going brat," she glared harshly, hurting all the while, "Or I will send you to the dungeons faster than you can say Quidditch."

Teddy quivered for a little bit, offered his apologies, which Hermione sneered at, and then ran as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Hermione felt the urge to run after him, apologize and give him a huge hug. As if he had heard her thoughts, Draco tightened his grip on her arm and lead her to the Transfiguration teacher's quarters.

They were concealed behind a painting of Merlin the Great, who greeted them fondly and allowed them access when Draco gave him the password, "Sherbet Lemon."

She asked him whether he chose the password or not to which he gave her a firm glare.

"He picks the passwords not me," he told her firmly, "Probably something of Dumbledore's invention."

Hermione wouldn't have been surprised if it was.

Inside, was nothing like Hermione had ever pictured Draco living in. Everything, from the kitchen table cloth, to the stained glass windows, was covered in either red or gold. Apparently, the Transfiguration teacher had always been head of Gryffindor as well.

She shot Draco an incredelous look to which he shrugged.

"I just never had the time to redecorate," he chuckled lightly, telling her that he secretly liked the bold and glamorous colours, "Take a seat," he indicated the couch, but Hermione had other ideas.

She had remembered what Severus had said about head subjects and their paintings.

"Where's your study?" She asked him quietly.

"First door on the left," he answered with a confused look, "I thought you were here to see me, not my furniture?"

"I'm here because you didn't give me another option," she answered nonchalantly as she moved towards the door, "And because this is far better than trying to keep my host out of my pants."

"Who says this one won't try to get in your pants?" He asked her in jest, to which she almost smiled.

"I could kill this one a lot quicker and without as much mess," she replied, smirking as she turned the door knob to the study "So it doesn't really matter if he is or isn't."

It was just as she had predicted. Rows upon rows of portraits of former Transfiguration teachers and heads of Gryffindor house, the most prominent of which was the sleeping eyes of Professor Dumbledore. She looked at the far corner of the little office, noticing that there was and empty picture frame.

"You know who that's reserved for don't you," Draco told her quietly, coming up behind her and giving her a glass of mead.

She knew exactly who it was reserved for, but the idea of mentioning McGonagall's illness out loud just made it seem all the more real, therefore, she didn't say a word. Hermione simply left the office and made her way to the chair that Malfoy had indicated earlier.

"I couldn't believe it when they told me to take her place," Draco continued, "I never thought that the old bat would go down, not even to dragon pox."

"Do you really believe that nonsense?" She asked him with slight venom in her tone as she took a sip of her wine. She instantly found that she liked firewhiskey better.

"Of course not," he smirked at her, "The dragon pox would have been delt with by now if it was only that. There has to be something more sinister going on than what we've been told."

She simply continued to nurse her mead.

"So you've been speaking to Severus I take it?" He asked and she almost spilt her wine.

He chuckled at her.

"It's the only way you could have known about my study chambers," he laughed as she cleaned the residue from her chin.

"Is he that talkative?" She asked him with slight disdain.

"Only to those he likes," he smirked then looked down into his own glass, "I used to go down there before you arrived and ask him for advice, just like back in school. He hated it when I snuck into his office, even when he was headmaster, but he never punished me. It was odd."

"You were his favorite student," she scoffed, rolling her eyes, "Of course he wouldn't punish you."

"You do remember this is Severus Snape we are talking about right?" He asked her incredulously, still smiling at her, "He punished me for lesser things in the past, and badly at that. I'll never forget the day he made me wash all the chamber pots in the hospital wing because I called Parkinson a potty mouth and gave her a lightning bolt scar and unmovable glasses. Sneaking into a professor's office, let alone the Headmaster's is punishable by expulsion. They added torture to the list when the Carrows arrived. He could have handed me over at any moment, but he never did."

Hermione just stared at him. She never thought that Snape punished anyone from his own house, let alone let them sneak into his office seeking refuge or advice. The idea was completely ludicrous at best. As if sensing her doubt, Draco leaned across the table and placed his hand ontop of her own.

"He wasn't the greasy dungeon bat that all you Gryffindorks believed him to be," he told her softly, "He was a teacher first and foremost, one of the best."

And didn't she know it. She had seen the memories that Snape had given to Harry, so she knew it better than what Draco did. It had taken her a while to find a wizarding house with a pensieve, but once she had, she jumped at the chance to find out why Harry had sacrificed himself for the greater good. She hadn't intended to learn Snape's entire history in the process.

Suddenly noticing where his hand was placed though, Hermione changed the topic.

"Who are you calling a Gryffindork?" She asked with a smile and Draco smiled back, knowing exactly what she was doing. He withdrew his hand and leaned back taking another sip of his wine.

"Just the biggest know it all to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts," he laughed.

She mock scowled at him, noticing for the first time that they were actually comfortable around one another. It was a big step from when she first arrived and an even bigger step from the incident by the lake.

"So how do you know Teddy Lupin?" Draco asked as he refilled her glass without even asking her if she wanted another one.

She just stared at him dumbly until he rolled his eyes.

"He's my second cousin Hermione," he scoffed at her, "Did you really expect me not to recognise him."

"He's your second cousin to a dead werewolf and a blood traitor," she spat unintentionally.

"All the same," he ignored her tone, knowing that it was by accident, "How did you recognise him?"

She paused for a moment.

"He has his father's eyes," she told him quietly, "I'd recognise those eyes anywhere."

Draco peered at her over the top of his own glass, swirling its contents.

"He knows my real loyalties," Draco informed her, "I'm in contact with his grandmother, Andromeda. I give her information from the castle and she feeds it to what's left of the Order of the Phoenix."

She stared at him in shock and then in fright.

"You didn't tell them-"

"Of course not," he waved her off, "I'm not stupid. If you wanted the Order to know about your existence you would have informed them by now, so I haven't told Andromeda a thing."

Again, all she could do was stare.

"The Order knows about my true loyalties as well," he told her, "It's not as if Andromeda could pass on information without giving up a source. If you don't believe me, we can call back Teddy and he can confirm it..."

It was then that she understood why he had suddenly revealed this to her. It was a sales pitch. He was trying to get her to divulge her plans to him so that he could help. She was not stupid, she knew Slytherin manipulation when she saw it.

"Mafoy-"

"Draco," he cut her off.

"_Malfoy_," she said to emphasise her point, "It's not that I don't trust you. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't be here would I? It's just that I couldn't allow myself to put you in anymore danger than what you are, and further more, if I let you in on my plans it gives the Dark Lord another person to question if I ever get discovered. If I die by his hand, I plan on passing my knowledge down to the next available person who is capable of taking him down and I can't do that if he discovers what I'm up to and destroys all my resources."

"I don't have to know it all," he told her, finally coming clean of his agenda, "Just enough to let me help you, nothing more. I'm already in as much danger as I could be Hermione. He's issued an order saying that anyone who aids the Order of the Phoenix in any way will be killed, and if he finds a Death Eater is helping them, he'll torture them in more ways than you can imagine. I got _myself_ into this and I'm prepared to see it to the end."

He made sense, she had to admit that, but it was all just too much. She couldn't just let him waltz into this, he had no idea of what he was up against. It was then that she decided that this little chat had gone on long enough, so she stood from her seat.

"Thank you very much for the rescue Malfoy," she told him, smoothing out her robes, "But I have things to be getting on with."

She moved towards the door and felt Draco come up behind her, ready to make his argument, when the door to his chambers flew open and out came three very frightened seventh year boys, and Voldemort himself.

"Good evening Miss Grant, Malfoy," he smiled, "I hope I am not interrupting anything?"

"Not at all My Lord," she smiled graciously, her walls up within an instant, "I was just about to leave Mr Malfoy with the organisational instructions I gave him regarding all the text books in his store rooms. I must say that this entire school is so completely unorganised."

The Dark Lord smirked as Draco nodded in agreement.

"I thought," Voldemort told them both, throwing the three boys inside, "That now would be the time to elicit your punishment upon these fools. I am very much looking forward to hearing them scream."

Hermione would have paled and fainted if she had not been in such control of her body. Instead, she simply smiled at him and sneered down at the boys.

"Are these the three that were leering at you Miss Grant? The ones you told me about just a moment ago?" Draco asked her, his face malicious at the idea.

In truth, she had no idea how he had known, unless of course he had been watching the hall just as much as the other two in the room during dinner.

"They are Mr Malfoy," Hermione smirked, "I'm surprised that they have the gall to even _think_ of me in such a way."

"Perhaps you would like to watch too Malfoy?" Voldemort asked him.

"Why not?" Malfoy bounced back with a shrug, "It's been a while since I witnessed torture, so this should be fun."

One of the boys looked up at her through frightened eyes. It was the one who had been making kissy faces, the one who had initiated the entire thing. She wanted so desperately to get him out of there unharmed and tell You-Know-Who to shove his job you-know-where, but her duty to save the wizarding world was greater than her need to save these three boys.

It was time to show Malfoy and the Dark Lord, just how much she had changed in the last ten years. It was time to show them what ten years of silence, of finding boyfriends in rivers, of seeing friends and leaving them, of severing werewolf-pervert heads from their bodies, did to someones darker nature.

"You," she told the one cowering before her, "Will suffer last, and will receive the greatest pain."

To her utter disgrace at herself, some tears escaped his eyes, but she kept her disgust with herself hidden from the other two men in the room.

She removed a vial from the inside of her robes. It was black with silver flecks running through it, sounds emerging from the tip of the cork that almost resembled screams.

"This will be your fate," she told him and placed it on the counter just beside her, allowing him to drink in the sight of it with frightened blood shot eyes.

She then turned to the other two and glared at them, just as an idea came to mind. It flashed before her eyes and left just as quickly as it came. There was still a chance for two of them, all she had to do...

"On second thought," she addressed Voldemort, "I think I'll use these two to send a message back to the rest of the student body. What say you my Lord? Should the death of their friend be enough punishment for the two of them?"

Voldemort smiled and evil smile and allowed her to continue as she turned back to the other two boys.

"What about you?" She asked them with an evil smile of her own, "Would you like to watch your friend dye so that you may live without any pain?"

The lone boy begged the other two with his eyes to spare him his life, but they did not comply. Hermione distantly thought that those three would have been Slytherins if there was still a sorting.

The boy suddenly began to sob as Hermione smiled at him and picked him up off of the floor, concealing her face from the Dark Lord. She gave him a small apologetic look, one of which he definitely did not understand, and then she smiled her malicious smile once more as she dragged him to the middle of the floor, taking the vial with her.

Voldemort watched with a hungry expression on his pale face. He was almost shaking in anticipation of what he was about to witness; Torture by the best. Draco watched her in secret fear, wondering how in the hell she endured this without breaking into tears. He would have been cowering before his master's feet by now if he was her. It wasn't that he had never tortured anyone before, he had done so many times and had learned to block everything out, but he knew that she was still new at the lies and concealment game.

And it was a very dangerous game to be playing.

She made the boy stand to his quaking feet, making sure that he was completely visible to the other four in the room, making sure that he was in the right position. She then held the bottle to his eyes.

"Do you know what this is?" She asked him and he shook his head no, not trusting his voice to answer her as he sobbed his little heart out.

She chuckled slightly and walked around him, putting her hand on his shoulder and standing behind him, her lips right by his ear.

"I didn't think so," she whispered seductively, "Why don't you drink it and find out?"

He sobbed even more as she placed the vial in his open hand, but he never brought it to his lips.

"Drink it," she urged him softly, but all he did was cry.

She glared at him through blue eyes and then with drew her wand.

"Drink it," she said softly, pointing her wand at him. But then she did something that the others did not expect. She aimed her wand at his friends.

"Drink the entire vial," she told him quietly, "And I'll let your friends live."

His friends pleaded with him, perhaps a little stronger than what he originally had, to spare their lives, to drink the vial and die a very painful death, so that they may live on.

The boy suddenly ceased his crying and held his head high, having made a decision. She knew that this would have worked, she could sense that he was a Gryffindor through and through by the daring he had shown at dinner.

He turned to the Dark Lord, staring him straight in the face.

"When your time comes," he whispered to him, before wiping the remaining tears from his eyes and downing the entire contents of the vial in one go, "I hope you suffer a fate worse than I."

The effect took a little bit. For a moment, he thought that the potion had been a dud and that he was going to live, that was, until he began to cough. His breathing hitched with every splutter, as his lungs contracted and blood spilled from his mouth all over the carpet.

She could see though, that the Dark Lord was not satisfied. He seemed to be losing interest, and she could not afford that if she was going to get close enough to kill him. As much as it pained her to do it, she knew that she had to make the boy scream if she was going to get through this unscathed.

It was then that Hermione withdrew a second potion from her robes. This one was a deep Slytherin green, with silver smoke protruding from the gap where the cork and the glass of the vial met. She threw this one down before his feet, the green liquid dissolving instantly and producing even more smoke. The smoke turned to steam and suddenly took the form of a skull in the air, before finally drifting from the air to his nose as even more blood left his body.

It was then, that he began to scream. Hermione didn't know how he did it with all the blood that was seeping from his mouth, but he somehow managed to make full bodied screams every time he parted his lips.

Hermione stood there with a malicious smile on her face, though on the inside she was screaming with him. Every fibre of her being cried out with him, writhed in pain with him, wished with all her might that he would just stop screaming and die already.

But she didn't get her wish until about half an hour later, when his screams died away and his limp and lifeless body fell to the floor, eyes wide open, skin ice cold. She then glared at the other two boys with what little strength she had left.

"Let us give you a little pre-potions lesson shall we?" She sneered at their gaunt and white faces, "The first one he took to save your pathetic lives was a blood manipulator. This particular type forces all the blood within the human body into the stomach by busting through the walls of the intestinal track, causing copious amounts of pain as the victim slowly dies of blood loss and internal bleeding. Now I was going to leave him with just that, but then I remembered what he had so lovingly said to our Lord and that he had sacrificed himself for a couple of idiots who would never have done the same."

The other two boys paled even further at this, remembering his screams for them to save him as they sat there on the floor dumbly and waited for it all to end just like she had willed it so.

"The second vial," she told them in a dangerous whisper, "Was a potion of my own invention. It tortures your mind with your worst experiences until it finds one that you particularly hate and then makes you relive it over and over again. It is the Memory Torture Brew, and I only ever give it to those I have absolutely no respect for. I gave it to him because he made the mistake of insulting our lord, and also because he spared you from a fate worse than death and had it not been for the fact that I need two little messengers, I would have given it to you."

The boys began to tremble at the venom in her words as tears made their way to their eyes.

"I will see you in class tomorrow," she said politely, ushering them out of the room and finally gazing upon the only others left.

Voldemort was still smiling maliciously.

"That was better than what I expected Hera," he said to her, his pleasure evident in the tone of his voice as he used her fake first name for the first time, "You certainly do have a way with your brews and elixirs."

"I live to serve my Lord," she bowed to him.

"Good," he whispered as she rose, "But I must leave you now. Avery is expecting me in little over five minutes to go over the troubles in France."

The other two nodded.

"There will also be a meeting tomorrow Malfoy," he said harshly to the blond, "I will not excuse your absence any longer."

"Yes my Lord," he bowed as Voldemort swept from the room after the boys.

It left the two of them alone once more. Draco stared at Hermione, a sorrowful ashen faced replica of what he used to be, her performance having been just as powerful as his own. Hermione looked anywhere but him, finally allowing herself to tremble when she realised that the Dark Lord had left.

She shook violently from shock as Draco moved forward, her eyes opened wide, tears leaking from her blue irises. She choked on the air she breathed as she gazed upon the boy's body before her. Her knees buckled and she would have fallen to the floor, if not for Draco's strong arms embracing her and holding her to his chest.

She didn't scream, she didn't sob, the only noise that ever passed her lips was her harsh breathing and her tears falling with small thuds. She clutched to Draco's arms for dear life, silently asking him to absorb her so she didn't have to feel this pain any longer, but he would not comply. He just held her there as she fell to pieces for the first time in ten years.

_"It's up to you now..."_

_"You can't do this on your own."_

_"Hit him a good few times for me 'Mione..."_

_"You can do it...I know you can..."_

_"It's got to be me..."_

She heard all their voices inside her head, every whisper, every hollow address and finally her silence broke. It started off as small choked sobs, then it soon became full blown wails of grief. She let her despair pool out of her, scream by scream, cry by cry, as Draco just held her in place and listened to her misery.

He offered no words of comfort because they would be compeltely useless to her now. All he could do was stand there and prevent her from drowning in her victim's blood that lay before her feet.

After a while, she finally subsided. She neither moved nor spoke and it wasn't until Draco looked down at her for the first time, that he realised that she had worn herself out and was now asleep in his arms.

He let out a shuddering breath before he cleaned up the mess she had made with the boy, disposed of the body, and carried her into his bed chambers. He took the time to remove her high heeled shoes and clean up the blood that was all over her skin, then he carefully tucked her under the covers and left her there, taking his place on the couch with a heavy heart.

He realised then that torturing that boy into insanity and then disposing of him in such a manor had hurt her more than she expected it to, more than she would ever admit. She had changed over the many years that he had been absent from her life. She had grown darker, more twisted, but her heart would always be with Potter and Weasley. Her heart would always be in the light of life, never the darkness of death.

With having realised it all, he turned over onto his side and extinguished the lights, leaving him for a fitful night's sleep of screams and of Hermione.


	8. How things have changed

**Hello Lovely Readers**

**Sorry that I'm late. This chapter took a little longer than expected, trying to get the right mood and things like that. We don't want things moving _too_ fast now do we. Oh well, hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.  
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**Disclaimer:Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.**

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Chapter eight: How things have changed

Cool satin sheets encased her exhausted body. Her first thought was that she was back in Gryffindor tower, back in her dormitory, snuggled up in her warm bed, but then she remembered that that wasn't possible, seeing as there was no more Gryffindor tower and she was no longer seventeen years old.

Her second thought was that she was in her own bed down in the dungeons, the small draft of the cold stone caressing what little skin that was visible. But then she remembered that she had collapsed in Malfoy's arms after her little torture session in his living room and Severus probably would have woken her up by now.

A moment of panic rushed through her when she suddenly realised that she was in Malfoy's bed. However the panic subsided when she found herself fully clothed and remembered that he had not betrayed her to the Dark Lord then and there. Hermione distantly heard someone whistling from behind the door that lead to the main suite. She had never picked Malfoy for a whistler at all, so when she heard his off key version of 'Hippogrif Groove' she was a little surprised.

She gingerly climbed out of bed, forgoing her high heeled shoes which lay forgotten on the carpet beside her, and padded out into the living room area. And there he was, in nothing but his black boxers, cooking eggs and bacon while listening to the wireless and whistling along to the 'Hippogrif groove.'

She didn't pay much attention to him at first, looking at the spot where the body of her first victim had been, but when she saw no evidence of any of it, her eyes finally drifted to Malfoy.

His hair was a little unruly in the mornings, though she had to admit that it looked better this way than it did when it was slicked back at school. His chest and torso were chiseled, something she wasn't at all surprised about considering how much of a Quidditch nut he had been during school. She wouldn't have been surprised if he continued on in the privacy of his manor.

All thoughts of the boys last night escaped her mind as she watched Malfoy cook his bacon and eggs and dancing his cute little behind off as he did so. Suddenly his whistling turned into full blown singing.

"If you! Like to! Move all night and day! Don't talk! Just move! Do the Hippogrif groove!" He sang at the top of his lungs. Thankfully, his singing was better than his whistling, but he wasn't really suited to rock and roll, wizarding style at least.

He began to play guitar with his spatula and hop around on one leg. Hermione had to admit that this was a great way to wake up in the morning, having an almost naked Malfoy hoping around in the kitchen while making breakfast is a wonderful sight.

Suddenly, he swung around in mid song and saw her leaning against the wall looking at him with a smirk on her face. She thought for a moment that he was going to attempt to cover himself up with the spatula in his hand, but instead he straightened up and gave her a dazzling smile.

"Good morning Hermione," he said to her, putting the spatular on the counter.

"Good morning Malfoy," she smiled at him, "I have to say that you're very entertaining first thing in the morning."

To her surprise a modest blush crept to his cheeks and he gave her a small bow of recognition.

"I live to serve," he told her in jest and then he turned back to his bacon and eggs, placing half on one plate and half on another.

"I hope you don't mind scrambled," he told her, placing it in front of her on the counter, "I can't stand sunny side up and I always stuff up boiled or poached."

"Scrambled is fine," she responded, "I didn't even know that Malfoy's could cook."

He smirked at her.

"Generally they don't," he told her laughing, "But we reserve our special talents for only those we deem worthy."

To this, she laughed as well and sat down to eat her eggs.

"So how are you feeling?" He asked on a more serious note, "After last night."

She looked up at him and saw the sincerity in his eyes. It was almost too much for her to handle as she took a bite of crispy bacon.

She looked down at her plate and didn't look up again, showing her answer rather than telling him. He put his hand underneath her chin and pulled her up to face him.

"You did what you had to to minumise the loss," he told her quietly, "It seemed cruel, but you saved two lives rather than sacrificing them all. He wouldn't have let you off with just torture last night, you know that. He was testing you."

"And how many other people will I have to kill in order to pass his tests?" She spat at him.

"As many as he deems worthy," he whispered quietly, telling her that there was something else to this that she was missing.

They ate in silence for another few minutes.

"What time is it?" She asked him, "I have to get back to my chambers and-"

"There's no need," he told her having just finished a mouthful, "I took the liberty of getting some fresh robes for you this morning, you're free to use my bathroom and by the look on your face I'd say that you aren't too bothered by my cooking, so there really is no need to leave for the next few hours. It's three in the morning by the way."

She sat there with a shocked look on her face, her lips moving but no sound coming out.

"Oh my god Granger, are you going to explode?" He asked her with a smile and she glared back at him.

"How did you get into my rooms?" She asked him, "How did you know my password?"

"Oh please," he rolled his eyes, "Using 'bookworm' is hardly a password when it comes to you. You forget, I'm the only one in this castle who knows who you are so it makes it pretty damn easy to guess your every secret."

She scowled at him.

"Then how did you know where my robes would be?" She asked him, more curious than angry.

"Severus was rather helpful," he told her lightly, taking another bite out of his toast, "Told me where everything was. He dared me to go in your underwear draw too, but I wasn't to confident that you would appreciate it, and by the look in his eye, I would say that you had some kind of hex on it or something."

"I'll burn his frame when I get back," she told him quietly and Draco laughed, "And yes, going in there would have been a bad idea. It's where I hide my deadliest potions, so it's protected by a series of complicated enchantments that would leave nothing but your left arm by the end of it."

Draco just stared at her, a fork full of eggs half way to his mouth which was a gape in shock.

"What?" She asked of him, looking as though he had just said something completely outrageous.

"You keep your leathal potions in you underwear draw?" He asked her, looking skeptical.

"Well it's not as if anybody would suspect it would they?" She said, clearly not seeing the problem.

Draco just shook his head and laughed, and eventually, she cracked a smile too.

"Did you say that it was three in the morning?" She asked, he nodded and then she mumbled, "Great, now I'm waking up at three even when my brain _isn't_ messing with my sleeping patterns."

He had heard what she said, but thought it best not to acknowledge it. Perhaps it was nothing at all, a slip of the tongue. They sat in silence for a few more minutes, Hermione deep in thought over something that Draco was not sure he wanted to know about.

They didn't speak again until she took her plate up to the sink and made it wash itself with a lazy flick of her wand.

"What's your schedule like today?" She asked him, taking his plate as well.

"I have third years, seventh years, fifth years and forth in that order," he told her with out hesitation, "You?"

"Second, forth, first and sixth. Apparently only a few seventh years wanted to continue onto N.E.W.T level so I'm merging them with the sixth years," she told him, "Do you have any breaks in between?

He shook his head no.

"Then I guess we'll have to wait until tonight then," she whispered softly.

"For what?" He asked her, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I figured," she began quietly, "After last night, after everything you did for me then...I figured that you deserve to at least know _some_ of the plan, if not all of it."

Draco just stared at her for a few moments until words finally found their way to his mouth.

"Why now?" He asked her shakily as he joined her by the sink.

"Well for starters," she said, turning to face him, "You didn't hand me over, which further proved to me that you have no loyalties to him. Secondly, you haven't called me 'mudblood' at all since I arrived, which tells me you've grown up...even if it's only a little bit..."

He chuckled at her words and she smiled until her last point came.

"And thirdly," she said softly bowing her head, "Not only did you clean up my mess last night...You let me fall apart when I really needed to. I haven't cried or screamed like that in over ten years Malfoy. Not since-"

She couldn't give herself enough courage to finish her sentance, so that was when Malfoy once again came to her rescue.

"Since after the final battle," he concluded for her.

"Yeah," she nodded, "After all that I've done and all that I plan to do...Something you said by the lake really stuck with me."

"What was it?" He asked her softly, lifting her chin to face him.

"I can't do it on my own," she whispered, "Not anymore. It would be suicide to even try."

He didn't say 'I told you so.' He didn't even crack a smug grin. He simply nodded in understanding and let her continue.

"So with all that being said," she continued softly, allowing a small smile to capture her lips, "I would like you to join me in my chambers this afternoon. We'll skip dinner and take supper there if that's alright with you. Maybe even indulge Severus in a bit of banter."

It was a true sentiment of how much things had changed between them since she had arrived, more so since they had first met.

Gone were the days where he would call her a stupid mudblood and laugh in her face for her failures. He had truly grown up since then and it was only now that Hermione was beginning to see it.


	9. What needs to be done

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**My goodness, this chapter was quick! I can't believe it didn't take me a month or so to get it out! Well, I suppose that inspiration is simply flowing for this one haha:D, I hope you enjoy it!  
**

**Disclaimer:Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.**

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Chapter nine: What needs to be done

Hermione's first day went painfully slow. Between evil little first years melting every cauldron they laid eyes on, and frightened seventh years looking as though they were going to pass out, she really didn't understand how Snape did it all those years.

"I mean, come on," She spoke to him as she prepared supper for herself and Draco that night, "They're absolute dunderheads if they think they can mix salamander blood and gun powder and _not _get an explosion out of it."

She always liked cooking the muggle way, even if she had been really bad at it before she had a lot of practice on the run. It just gave her something to do, another task to occupy her already over stimulated mind. It was just a way to keep her mind off of other things.

Snape simply sat there in the portrait of the fruit bowl hanging above her stove, his face teeming with amusement as he lounged imperiously all over the long banana in the front.

"Now I know why you were such a bastard to us," she muttered off handedly, wiping the smirk right off of his face.

"I was a bastard by nature Miss Granger," he refuted, "Not because you idiots thought you knew how to brew Polyjuice potion better than I did."

She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You know what I mean," he grumbled and she smirked back at him.

She was just turning the soup down low when there was a rather loud knock at her door. She looked at Severus quizzically who simply looked back.

"I'm not expecting Malfoy for another half an hour," she told him as she ventured to the door.

"It wouldn't kill you to use his first name," Severus told her, "You have the gall to use mine, why not his."

"You're dead," she told him with a laugh as she reached the door, "Big difference."

"Not really," he muttered.

Severus simply rolled his eyes at her and lounged back on the banana once more. Hermione opened the door with a smile, but it faded slightly when her eyes came to rest on those of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

"My Lord," she smiled politely, though bile was creeping its way to her throat, "What a pleasant surprise, please come in."

He did so without a word.

"We missed you at dinner," he said quietly, gazing around the room and giving Severus a stiff nod, "Something Professor Avery was quick to point out. Malfoy was also missing."

"Well I can not speak for Mr Malfoy," she said lightly, "However if I had known that you would have been there My Lord, I surely would have attended, and Professor Avery needs to learn that I am _not_ his personal property."

Voldemort simply scrutinized her, making her feel uneasy on the inside but she never gave herself away.

"So why is it you missed dinner Miss Grant?" He asked of her, taking a seat at the dinner table she had ready for the meal.

Hermione did some rather quick thinking and then realised that she would be safest with a half truth that Malfoy could validate for her later.  
"I was planning on having Mr Malfoy over for supper," she told him, "And since I can not possibly cook with magic without blowing up my kitchen, I decided to skip dinner and cook by hand."

"That is what the house elves are for Miss Grant," he pointed out, "Why dirty your hands when you have idiotic beasts to do the work for you?"

Her blood boiled at the way he spoke of the house elves. She wanted nothing more than to strangle him, get some sort of message into that bald, inflated head of his, but her desire to live was stronger than her morals.

"I would prefer not to eat the little brats' left overs My Lord," she informed him "And cooking by hand is very good for potions work."

To her surprise he actually smirked at her, and said nothing more of dinner. He got up from where he sat and made his way into the kitchen where she was tending to her soup once more, Severus giving her a hidden heads up when he was just behind her.

"Well," he said quietly, "That isn't why I am here Miss Grant."

"Not that I'm not happy to see you My Lord," she told him, turning and leaning on the stove as she went, "Why is it you are here?"

He took one last step towards her and was almost nose to nose.

"I am impressed Miss Grant," he whispered to her, "Your little display last night had me thinking of many..._issues_, as I took care of the other two idiots."

So that was why she hadn't seen them during class. She thought at first that they may be faking sick in their dorms so that they didn't have to see her, but then she thought that they would be severely punished for skipping class, so that option was out. But now she knew the truth, and it was far more heavy on her heart than the fact that they were frightened of her.

At least last night and this morning she had the feeling that she had done some good, that she had saved two lives rather than sacrificed one. Trust the Dark Lord himself to shatter her little illusion with only a few simple words.

"Bugger," She sighed, "I was planning on giving them a rather..._exciting_ lesson. Oh well, at least they got what was coming to them. What was it that I forced into your brain My Lord?"

"I am in need of a new personal Potions Master," he informed her, "I have not seen one of competence since Severus Snape and so I have not had one in over ten years, which has made my job a fair bit harder to say the least."

"You seem to have managed very well My Lord," she informed him, "But I see your point. It would be fruitless to try and find the time of day to brew potions when you are ruler of the world."

"But management, is neither something I want nor is it acceptable," he told her, "I want you to take Severus' place."

"But My Lord," she started hesitantly, "I am very flattered and honoured that you would ask me to perform such a task, however with classes and copius amounts of detention that the Carrows are dropping on me-"

"The detentions can be dealt with," he said quickly, "And I have every confidence that you will be able to juggle your lessons with your work for me."

It was only now that she realised how close they were, his body almost pressed to hers, his head merely inches from her own, so it was natural to feel a pang of relief when the door was banged on once more. The Dark Lord obviously pretended not to hear it.

"My Lord," she said quietly, "I believe that would be Malfoy, and it would be most ungracious of me not to answer the door."

He scrutinized her a little bit more before he finally stepped aside and allowed her to pass. She did so at a torturous speed. When she opened it however, it wasn't the cool eyes of Draco Malfoy that she came to gaze at, but the blazing look of Marcus Avery.

"We missed you at dinner Miss Grant," he said with a smile, "I thought I would come and make sure you were alright-"

He cut himself off as he walked inside her chambers uninvited and came to gaze upon Voldemort.

"My Lord," he said lightly, "I did not realise that you were here."

"Clearly," the Dark Lord mused, rolling his eyes as he went, causing Hermione to stifle a giggle. Those two really could be entertaining if put in the right situation.

Avery invited himself further into her chambers taking a seat on her couch as he did so, gazing around the room and taking in what he had obviously missed.

"Are you expecting any more company Miss Grant?" He asked her lightly, though she could hear the hint of scorn in his tone.

"Yes," she replied, "I am expecting Professor Malfoy at any moment for supper-"

"Ah," he mused with some bitterness, "The other missing professor."

"And _we_ were in the middle of something Avery," the Dark Lord hissed, clearly not amused by the interruption when it wasn't her guest of honour after all.

Avery looked affronted for a moment and there was an awkward silence between the three of them until the contents of Hermione's stove hissed and bubbled.

"My soup!" she exclaimed as she rushed past Avery over to the stove once more.

"Soup?" Avery asked, "Surely you aren't cooking? That's what the house elves are for."

Hermione ignored him, dove past the Dark Lord and pushed her pot off of the stove and onto the bench top.

"I told you to watch it carefully," Severus told her off handedly, causing the Dark Lord to smirk.

"Bite me, oil for brains," she replied with more scorn than what she normally would, making the Dark Lord's smirk turn into a malicious grin.

And once more, the old door was hammered on. If it wasn't him this time, then Hermione would surely scream. But apparently the universe wasn't ready for her shrill cry just yet, as when she opened the door, she finally came to gaze upon the cool, chrome eyes of Draco Malfoy.

She mentally sighed at the sight of him and closed her eyes in relief, telling him that something was obviously wrong.

She lead him inside the rooms, and ventured back to her soup.

"As you can see Mr Malfoy, we have a few unexpected guests," she smiled, gesturing to Voldemort and also to Avery.

"Yes," he said, instantly putting up a mask of indifference, "If our lord has something he wishes to discuss with you, perhaps we can reconvene at a later date?"

At first she didn't know what the hell he was doing, until Voldemort finally shifted from his possition by the stove.

"No Malfoy," Voldemort said exasperatedly, "I have finished, and clearly she is not hurt Avery, so you will leave as well."

Hermione smirked slightly at the look on Avery's face, just as though he was trying to think of an excuse to stay, but apparently he was out of luck

Voldemort moved over to the table where she was busy ladling soup into two bowls. He came right up behind her, placing one hand at her waist and one on her shoulder, bringing his lips right by her ear, all the while, Hermione still ladling soup as though there wasn't an evil monster with his hands all over her.

"Think about it," he whispered, "It would be worth it."

He lingered only for a moment longer and then walked over to the couch where a stunned Avery was sitting, ushered him up and out of the room. The last thing that either Hermione or Draco heard from the pair was the irritated voice of the Dark Lord.

"...Obviously isn't interested. Find someone else to be your play thing."

Hermione would have laughed along with Draco, had she not been so stunned by the slight gesture of intimacy from the Dark Lord. She visibly shivered from head to toe, trying to escape the feeling of his hands on her. It made her wonder what being his personal Potions Mistress would involve.

Draco seemed to notice her change in demeanor when he finally sobered up and looked at her. He walked over to her with a reassuring smile and placed his hand on the small of her back.

"Don't worry about that," he said to her, "He does it to all the women that allow him close enough to hex them, just to see how they react. Another test if you will. I think the only reason Avery was so stunned is because he hasn't seen any other woman show as much indifference to him as you have. You should have seen my aunt when he did something like...melted every single time."

Hermione let out a shuddering breath and turned to face him.

"Does he have to test _everything_ about me?" She asked him, looking as though she was frightened of the answer, which she actually was.

"I'd say that would be about it," he told her, "What did he say to you anyway?"

"Well," she told him as she sat and he did the same, still a bit shaky, "He told me to think about the offer he put to me before Avery so rudely interrupted us. He wants me to be his personal Potions Mistress. Apparently he hasn't had one since-"

"Since Severus," he nodded, taking a sip of his soup, "Mmmm, great soup, french onion?"

She nodded and smiled appreciatively.

"So are you going to do it?" He asked her, "It would be a brilliant way to get close to him, figure out any more of his plans he may have left, things like that."

"But it also means spending more time with him," she told him, "Meaning more chances of getting caught."

"The benefits out weigh the risks Hermione," he told her taking another sip of soup, "Can we have this tomorrow night too?"

She laughed at him slightly. Apparently, her cooking was better than his.

"But the risks are still there Malfoy," she told him, "Then again, it's not like he'll let me refuse will he?"

Draco shook his head, confirming her fears. She had no choice, none at all, and it seemed that with every choice she couldn't make, her life was slowly spinning out of her control. There was nothing she could do but watch and pray that once she stopped spinning, that she was pointed in the right direction.

When they had finished their soup, Hermione went into long explanations as to what she was going to do to stop the Dark Lord, and how she was going to do it, leaving out all possible emotional details. She wasn't ready to talk about Olivander, and she certainly wasn't ready to talk about Harry or Ron, something that Draco seemed to understand.

"Ok," Draco mused as he took a bite of his apple pie, "So first you need to find this book...um, warts and all?"

"_Knots_ and all," she corrected.

"Right, right," he waved her off, "And then you're going to merge three wands into one? Hermione this is dangerous, even when we take your track record into consideration, this has to be the worst plan by far."

"Maybe," she told him, taking a bite herself, "But it's the only plan we've got, and it's the only one that even has a remote chance of working against the elder wand-"

"It's the only one you _think_ we've got," he corrected her, "With you now being his personal Potions Mistress, you're now close enough to poison him..."

She let him drift on for a bit, not really paying attention, as she realised that there was something else she had forgotten. She had been so worried about Voldemort himself, that she had never once thought about the others around him, about his servants...about his _pets_.

"Nagini," she whispered, cutting him off in mid sentence.

"And then- wait, what?" He asked her.

"The bloody snake," she whispered to him, "We can't do anything to him until we get rid of the snake."

"Ok," he said, "I know the snake is nasty and all, but she has nothing-"

"She has _everything_ to do with it," she informed him, standing from the table out of frustration, "God I've been so focused on finding that book and building this wand and keeping Avery out of my knickers that I completely forgot about the last one!"

She was pacing the room without even realising it, Draco and Snape just sitting there and watching her intently.

"How could I have been...there from the very..._soul purpose _of the last..._why_ didn't I... _Stupid Granger!_" She said to herself over and over again, Severus and Draco simply looking from one to the other.

"What's going on Hermione?" Draco finally asked, "What did you forget?"

She turned to face him with a defeated look in her eyes.

"The last horcrux," she told him, "That stupid git made seven of them. That's part of the reason Harry, Ron and I were on the run, to get rid of them all. We got six...Harry included. But the one we couldn't get to was...the snake."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Draco got up to, trying to digest it all, "Potter was a horcux?"

"Do you even know what a horcrux _is_?" She bit at him.

"Of course I do, I'm not a troll," he told her, "You forget who your talking to Hermione. I grew up around dark magic, and if you don't consider horcruxes to be dark, then there's something wrong with you."

Hermione muttered an apology under her breath, causing him to smirk slightly, but she ignored it in her state of panic. The two were so absorbed within themselves and their newest problem that they didn't even notice Severus walk out of the fruit painting, into his own and then out of Hermione's chambers all together.

"What are we going to do?" She asked him, letting out a growl of frustration, "God, if I could wrap my hands around their necks!"

"Whose necks?" He asked looking confused.

"Their necks!" She repeated, "Dumbledore's, Moody's, Lupin's! I'd murder the lot of them for what they've left me with!"

"You don't mean-"

"Believe me Malfoy I do," she refuted before he could even finish, "Look at what a mess they've left me in! What they've left the world in! I would have rather taken their fates than the one they've left behind for me!"

"Then you may as well blame Potter and Weasley too," he told her, now glaring at her for the first time since she had come back to Hogwarts.

She was surprised by the response to say the least, not knowing where in the name of Merlin it had come from, but not so surprised that she didn't have one of her own.

"Harry and Ron were thrown into this just as I have been," she told him firmly, "You can't possibly blame them for any-"

"I can and I will," he sneered, the old Malfoy finally showing through, "Grow up Granger! They took on the task just as you are now! They had the choice to run, to hide and let someone else deal with it, but they didn't did they?! They chose to fight and when it got to tough they let go! _You_ had the choice too, _you_ had the chance to run, but you _chose_ to stay and fight and take him on. You brought this on yourself just like they did so the least you can do is suck it up and deal with it!"

"And what would you know of all this?!" She asked him, her anger shining through, "You _did_ run! You _did_ hide! You did nothing to stop this, in fact, you helped to create it!"

"A mistake that I'm correcting by helping you now!" He roared, "I acknowledge it and I am doing all that I can to make it right! But you are doing _nothing_ to help either yourself or the rest of the world! Quit living in the past and think of what has to come next! Or you'll be just as useless as those two idiots you called friends!"

In that instant, she drew her wand from the inside of her robes and aimed it at him.

"Don't you dare," she said, low and dangerous, in a tone that Draco had never been more frightened of, "Don't you _dare_, insult them. They did more for this world than you will _ever_ know. You have no idea of what they suffered through."

"No I don't," he told her, his sneer still firmly on his face, "But I do know what they did. They gave up. You hear me Hermione, _they gave up!_"

"They sacrificed-"

"No Hermione!" His voice rose again, "Potter didn't take you into the forest with him because he didn't want you to see the look on his face when he truly let go of his responsibilities! When he saw those memories, he knew he was defeated and he didn't want you to see it!"

"How do you-"

"Weasley pushed you into that fire place because he couldn't keep fighting anymore for something that was already lost! He never had your brains, your strength and he knew it!"

"You have no-"

"They gave up and they pushed everything onto you because they thought you could handle it on your own," he continued, walking up to her now, "But you can't can you?! They put this on you just as much as Dumbledore or Lupin ever did, so if you're going to play the blame game, at least play fairly!"

She made to fire a spell at him, but he grabbed her wand out of her hand before she had the chance to utter a single syllible and threw it to the ground. Without her wand there was only one thing left for her to do. A single tear rolled down her cheek as the palm of her hand connected with his cheek.

"You don't know _anything_, Malfoy," she told him, her voice breaking.

"Maybe not," he glared down at her, "But you need to be pushed out of this fantasy you're living in. As much as you would have liked them to be, Potter and Weasley _were not _saints, and they _were not _worth the ground you walk on. If you're going to live through this then you need to _stop_ dwelling on their memories and focus on fixing their blunders."

"And what if I don't _want_ to live through this?" She asked him in a sneer, ignoring what she thought to be a compliment that had escaped his lips, "What if I plan on joining them after this is all said and done."

"Then you are just as selfish as they were," he told her coldly.

There was a small pause between them, each glaring at the other as there was nothing more to say, except through the power of vision.

"This," he whispered to her after a while, placing his hands on her upper arms, "Is what they've left _us_, Hermione. This is what we have _had_ to do, what we are _forced_ to do, and what we _need_ to do. I had to accept it and move on. It's time you did the same."

She had the urge to shake him off and pull away, but when she tried he held her firmly in place, not once breaking eye contact with her.

"You _need_ to let go," he told her, softly yet firmly, "You _need_ to let go of that boy you killed last night, you _need_ to let go of Greyback and my aunt, you _need_ to let go of Dumbledore, Moody, Lupin, Tonks, everyone...and you _need_ to let go of Potter and Weasley if you and I are going to save the world."

Suddenly, her flow of tears became more constant as they spilled over her blue irises. She looked up at him, all anger gone, resentment towards herself, towards him and to her lost loved ones pouring out with every salty droplet.

"I can't," she sobbed, "I can't forget what I've done, what they've done...What I plan to do. I don't even _know_ what I plan to do anymore."

"I'll tell you what you're going to do, " and just like that, the new Malfoy was back, calming her down, "You are going to focus on getting that book and making that wand. We'll worry about. the snake when the wand is done, but you _need_ to stop feeling guilty and you _need_ to let go of your past. Potter and Weasley can't help you now."

They were staring at each other now, seeing one another in a completely different light. It was when she realised that she could see every strand of hair on his blond head that she remembered how close they were, how intimate they must look.

Him with his head dipped to look at her, hands on either side of her body.

She with her head tilted to see his eyes, her hands on his chest to brace herself.

She could have sworn that he was getting closer, until Severus made his presence known once more. Both turned to look at him, snapping out of their revere. There was something in his painted eyes that told her that something was wrong.

"When you have finished defiling my home in more ways than one," he told them, making Hermione blush slightly and release herself from Malfoy who did not object this time around, "It would be prudent to go to St Mungos."

The other two just looked at him and waited for him to elaborate.

"Minerva McGonnagall has little over thirty minutes to live..."


	10. A Gryffindor's Death

**Hello Lovely Readers**

**Oh my goodness, there must be something wrong with me, I am updating sooo quick!!!! Oh well better for you guys. This chapter is really long so do be warned, and please don't hate me for what I've done to Hermione. *cringes***

**Do be aware that Fanfiction is not letting me do any spell checking at the moment, so if there are any errors, I do apologize.  
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**Disclaimer:Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.**

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Chapter ten: A Gryffindor's Death

The effect was instantaneous for Hermione. At the sound of Severus' words, she bolted from the living room and into her bedroom.

"Wait, what does McGonagall have to do with this?" She heard Draco ask from the other side of her bedroom wall, but she wasn't even listening.

She launched herself immediately inside her drawers, finding the one with all her knickers in it, removing all the complicated wards and curses she had placed on said drawer, and then pulled out a potion that was covered by a particularly lacy pair of undies.

It was a deep red colour, almost like blood except not nearly as thick. Beautiful white spirals of steam protruded through the cork and into her nose, lighting her senses, telling her that this was definitely the right one.

She walked out of her room once more, not even looking at Malfoy who was staring at her, mouth completely a gape in shock.

"Will this one be strong enough?" She asked Severus, walking over to the fruit painting once more.

"Will what be strong enough?" Draco asked, walking over to where she stood and eying the potion wearily.

Once again, she ignored him, finding it easier to answer his questions when everything was said and done.

Severus, being the smartest painting in the room, knew exactly what she was up to.

"If you take it just before they arrive," he told her, "Would you like me to act as a look out?"

"That would be preferable," she told him, walking away from him once more and over to the fire place in the middle of her lounge room.

"What is going on?!" Draco burst out in frustration.

It was then that Hermione finally acknowledged him.

"You and I are going to St Mungos," she told him quickly, "I am going to speak to Minerva McGonagall and you will wait outside. When I come out, you will immediately take me to the front desk, do you understand?"

He just stood there dumbly for a few seconds, mouth a gape in shock.

"Do you understand Malfoy?!" She repeated more forcefully to which he finally nodded.

Before she grabbed the floo powder, she pulled out her wand and casted a single spell around her fire place. Once again, Draco looked at her dumbly.

"It's a delaying spell," she informed him, "Seeing as I can't stop the fire from being monitored completely, I've got to have some form of illusion in place. This should do the trick."

With that, she took his hand in her own without even thinking and dragged him inside the fire place, dropping the floo powder and saying "St Mungos Hospital," all in the same moment.

They stepped out of the fire place, both coughing and spluttering.

"Merlin," Draco spluttered, "Do they ever clean those things?"

Hermione however, did not waste any time. She crept out of the fireplace, unceremoniously dragging Draco with her, trying not to gain any attention. They had come in through the visitor's fire place, so no one really cared what they were doing anyway.

They were so invisible to others that they could even pick up snippets of conversations that were going on around them without being told to bugger off.

The welcome witch at the front desk was trying to direct an erratically dancing man to the fourth floor for spell damage treatment, but he seemed unable to hear her.

"WHAT?" He called loudly, "SORRY I CAN'T HEAR YOU! HE HEXED MY EARS TO. SOMETHING ABOUT HAVING THEM BEING PAINTED ON!"

The witch was so exaspertated and exhausted that she didn't even notice the two of them slipping past, but as they came to the stairs, Hermione had to stop and look at the sign that had been altered since the last time she was here:

ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS................................Ground floor

_Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc_.

CREATURE INCLUDED INJURIES..................First floor

_Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc_

MAGICAL BUGS..............................................Second floor

_Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox,_

_vanashing sickness, scrofungulus, etc._

POTION AND PLANT POISONING....................Third floor

_Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable_

_giggling, etc._

SPELL DAMAGE...............................................Fourth floor

_Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly_

_applied charms, etc..._

That was the normal bit, she had seen that all before. It was the additions to the bottom that really made her look...

DEATH EATER WARD.......................................Fifth floor

_If you have the dark mark you are_

_entitled to this ward and first hand_

_treatment._

PRISONER WARD...............................................Sixth floor

_All Mudbloods and Blood-traitors _

_in need of medical treatment so _

_that they may be interrogated will _

_be sent here_

"They made those two just after you went into hiding," he told her grimly, "I've only ever had to go into the death eater ward once. It's top of the line and no matter what, we have to come first. We could come in with a stubbed toe and an ordinairy wizard that had been crucioed one too many times would have to wait. I've never seen the prisoner's ward, but from what I hear, it's completely ghastly."

"I can only imagine," she muttered before she finally got her mobility back and moved on,

"It's not listed on there," he continued as they kept walking up the stairs, "But the Dark Lord has a private ward here too."

She stopped dead in her tracks, causing Draco to bump straight into her. She would have fell flat on her bum if he hadn't come back to his senses quickly and snaked a hand around her waist first.

"What the hell would he want a ward for?" She asked him as he set her right and they continued on as though nothing had happened.

"I have no idea," he informed her, "He obviously never uses it, but it's still there."

It was completely odd for Voldemort to have a ward of his own when he was clearly the most powerful wizard in the known world. It had been proved time and time again that no one could beat him...Hermione only hoped that she would be the first.

They finally made it to the second floor, Hermione peering cautiously through her curtain of black hair around the corner. Out of all the wards for death eaters to guard, why in the hell did it have to be the one Minerva McGonagall was residing in?

Because she's a crazy teacher that's dying and has to pass on the role of headmaster before she carks it, she told herself, and they think she knows where the remaining order members are hiding.

"Why do I always have to be right," She muttered to herself angrilly, causing Draco to look amused at her.

"How are we going to get past them?" He asked her, looking as though the task was impossible.

Hermione was at a loss. If they were seen, then it would all be over- She suddenly had an idea.

She reached inside the inside pocket of her robes and pulled out Harry's old Moulskin pouch.

"How in the hell is that going to help us?" Draco asked her, looking slightly disgusted at the filthy contraption.

"This isn't," she told him plainly, reaching inside, "But this is."

When her hand retracted out of the old brown pouch, out with it, came one of the deathly hallows...Harry's invisibility cloak.

"But we can't just slip past them," he told her, "And that thing isn't big enough to cover both of us."

"That's why you are going to drink this," she told him, taking out a small vial from the same pocket that she had dragged out the pouch.

A mud like substance that hissed and bubbled violently within it's glassy prison.

"I snagged a bit of hair from Avery at lunch today when he tried to feel me up," she smirked, "Be the last time he tries that without asking again."

"Where did you pluck it from?" He asked her, looking slightly disgusted and Hermione only smirked.

"I made Polyjuice and other potions constantly while I was on the run," she continued, "There was nothing else to do, so I just made batch after batch after batch, once I had an overflow of ingrediants, courtesy of Kreacher. I now have fiffty two cauldron fulls of mud and other vial tasting substances."

"Where do you keep them all?" He asked her, now looking more astounded than disgusted, and agian she only smirked.

"Do you recognise those two?" She asked him, indicating the death eaters behind the wall.

"The one on the left's a new recruit," Malfoy told her, "Nott's kid, only just turned seventeen. Graduated from Hogwarts last year and walked straight into the outer circle of death eaters. Roumor has it from Rabistan Lestrange that he'll replace his father within the year if he does enough ass kissing."

Hermione couldn't help but snort at that.

"The other one's Zacharius Smith," he continued, much to her surprise, "Thought you would have recognised him, he was in our year. Absolute prat though. I have a feeling that the Dark Lord's going to chuck him after this."

"Why?" She asked.

"Because he's made mistakes before," he sniggared, "And this will be a doozy if he ever finds out."

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed him the polyjuice potion. He looked at her with disgust again.

"Do I have to?" He asked her.

"I don't know Avery as well as you do," she told him, pitifully making up an excuse, "You'd be able to pull it off, I couldn't, and besides, the cloak wouldn't fit over your feet."

"Says the brightest witch of her age who managed to fool the Dark Lord," he argued, but didn't hand the potion back, "You owe me for this. I'll bet you all my galleons at Gringots that he tastes like dragon dung."

"And you would know what dragon dung tastes like...how?" She teased, placing the cloak over herself with a silly smirk on her face.

It was completely odd how they could be comfortable with one another, then raging at one another to flirting shamelessly the next. The little display they had put on in her chambers had been odd, but not as odd as their time together in general.

He quickly swallowed the entire contense of the vial, wincing as he went. Instantly, his blond locks darkened, as did his eyes. He grew an inch or so taller and slight stubble graced a now square jaw.

It was Marcus Avery in the flesh, only this time, she wasn't worried about him putting his hand up her skirt.

Hermione slipped the cloak over herself, disappearing into nothingness, pulling on Draco's cloak slightly to let him know where she was, and together, they stepped out into the empty corridor.

"And then I said," Smith laughed, " 'On party chat you said you were size fourteen,' then she turns around and tells me that she is and I say 'aww your feet maybe.' You should have seen the look on her face!"

"Right," Nott sighed, looking as though he could not have been paired with a more boring person, until his eyes came to rest on the new and improved Avery, "Professor Avery, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here to check on McGonagall," he told them imperiously.

"But we have orders-" Smith began.

"I wasn't talking to you Smith," he spat, "And I have orders of my own."

Nott smirked and allowed him passage inside. Just to make sure that Hermione had adequate time to get inside, he held the door open and spoke to them one last time.

"Make sure no one else comes in," he told them, "I don't want to be disturbed. I don't care if it's Draco fucking Malfoy, no one gets in, is that clear?"

They both nodded and Draco finally closed the door.

"Nice touch with the 'Draco fucking Malfoy'," she smiled as the door shut behind her and she pulled off the cloak.

"He's been saying stuff like that ever since you arrived," he smirked at her, "Probably thinks we're dating or something."

They walked within the unattended ward, moving down the rows and rows of doors. They peered inside the window of each one, finding a witch with spattergroit, several wizards with uncontrolable sneezing ("recent outbreak of losers lurgy," Draco told her, much to her own surprise) and she couldn't count the amount of people that had the snickupps, yet no Minerva McGonagall.

"There's no chance that she's in the prisoner's ward?" Draco asked her, but she shook her head.

"I speciffically asked Severus what ward she was in," she told him as they passed a wizard that was diagnosed with vanishing sickness, "And those idiots at the door would have told us if she wasn't here."

Time was running short. Severus had told her that she only had thirty minutes to live and as far as she could see, they had just spent the last fiffteen to twenty breaking in and trying to find her room.

"Found it!" He told her excitedly, pointing in one of the windows, "Room 665, Minerva McGonagall, Dragon Pox."

Hermione was suddenly apprehensive about going in. She didn't know if she was ready for this. But she had to push forward, it's what McGonagall would have told her to do, and she didn't want her Professor to die alone without any hope for the world.

She took a long and deep, shuddering breath and finally opened the ward door. Minerva was as pale as ever, and she looked some what diminished without her stern look and her extremely tight bun at the top of her head.

"Who is it?" She croaked, "If it's Tom Riddle or Marcus Avery, get the hell out of my ward, I'm not telling you a damn thing!"

Hermione had to smirk. Even when she was dying, the old woman still had the Gryffindor fire burning strong and true within her heart.

"It's not the Dark Lord," Hermione said quietly, approaching the old woman's bed.

Her head suddenly flickered towards Hermione's direction.

"I know that voice," she whispered, "I know that voice."

With a great effort, she sat up straighter in her bed and peered at Hermione through old, wisened, yet still loving eyes.

"I was wondering when you would come," she told her with a loving smile, "I always knew you would, though I'm not surprised by your change of appearance."

"Yes," Hermione sniffed, "The hair and eyes-"

"No, no dear," McGonagall laughed lightly, a slight cough at the end, "It is only natural for you to carry them with you, completely understandable. I only meant, that you have grown. You are no longer the bushy haired first year that used to plague me with questions that not even I knew how to answer. You're the young woman of great talent that I knew you would become."

Hermione could only blush at the praise as she sat by her bedside and held her icy hand.

"But you are not here for the ramblings of an old woman," she continued, "As much as you would like to be, you are not simply here because my time is up."

"No," she whispered, feeling tears prickle her eyes, "I've come because I need your help. I would not ask if it weren't urgent and-"

"Spit it out girl," she told her impatiently, "I haven't got all day."

Hermione would have laughed if the situation weren't so dire.

"I've taken up residence at Hogwarts," she told her, much to the older woman's shock, "Teaching potions. I'm there for a reason, so don't fret as to why I'm risking my neck, I just am. Professor-"

"Minerva," she corrected, "You are no longer my student and you have earned my respect."

She was touched to say the least and had to fight doubly hard to keep her tears at bay.

"Minerva," she corrected herself, "I need you to appoint a new headmaster for Hogwarts..."

***

Draco stood outside the room waiting for Hermione, no longer disguised as Marcus Avery, looking rather worried.

It was not that his locks were slowly fading back to their usual blond that worried him, he could easily just slip inside and ask for another vial if anyone came along, and it wasn't that they were about to fail, surely McGonagall would pass on the role to her, just to keep her safe.

No, it was the fact that twice today he had almost kissed her, and the fact that that was more frightening than impending doom, was a little bit of a worry.

Ever since he first saw her on those steps, he couldn't get her out of his head, running over things that he may have missed, things that he should have picked up when he was younger. He never once thought that she was lodged in his brain because he might have feelings for her, that was completely ludicrous, bordering on insanity.

He was a Malfoy and she was...an attrcative, intellegent, firey young woman. Ok so he was attracted to her. What was there not to like? He had given up on his old ideals the day of the final battle so the fact that she was muggle born wasn't a problem. So why did he hesitate when the opportunity came?

He knew the answer to that as clear as day. She was damaged.

She was broken and damaged no matter how hard she tried to hide it and he didn't want to be responsible for breaking her any further. She needed to stay strong so that she could destroy evil and take over Potter's unfinished task, and he wasn't sure if she was capable of doing so if feelings became involved.

Then again, she may not feel the same way he did. What was he thinking? Of course she didn't! He had tormented her cruely through out their entire time at Hogwarts and hadn't once apologized for it. How could she even remotely think of him that way with such things looming over her head? He was just lucky that she had decided to let him help her, let alone entertain him with her cooking and company.

He would have killed Weasley and Potter if they had still been alive. It was because of their absence that he didn't make a move, because they had broken her heart, each on the same day, beyoned repair. He would be surprised if she could ever love again, especially after today.

He began to pace the hospital halls, waiting for her to finish already. Time was running short...

***

McGonagall simply looked at her as she sat by her bedside.

"I understand the need for a new headmaster," the old professor mused, "However I do not understand your choice. Surely-"

"I have thought about it a lot Minerva," she said with a heavy heart, "And as far as I can see, it is for the best."

Minerva nodded her head.

"I trust your judgement Hermione," she said softly, a slight cough escaping her lips, "Consider it done."

Hermione smiled relieved, but it faultered as Minerva had another coughing fit. Hermione reached over to her bedside table and the old woman a glass of water.

"I've come to my end," she croaked, then laughed bitterly as she drank her water, "I never once thought that it would be like this."

Hermione could no longer contain the tears that threatened her borders. They spilled over her blue irises, coating her pale cheeks in salty stains of grief.

"It will be painful and ugly," McGonagall told her, "The poisons they fed me..."

"You knew?" She asked her and the old woman nodded.

"It was already too late by the time I found out," she told her, "I want you to leave Hermione. I don't want you to see me like this."

"I don't," she struggled to hold herself together, "I-I don't want you to die on your own. There has to be..."

She trailed off and looked at Severus' portrait who was staring at her grimmly. He seemed to know what she was thinking.

"You would be doing her a favour," he told her quietly, "It would not be an evil act."

"I don't know if I can do it..." she trailed off, looking at McGonagall once more who had caught on to what they were thinking.

"He is right," she rasped, "It would be a gift. Give me a clean death...a Gryffindor's death."

The tears flooded stronger from her eyes as she pulled out her wand. Her sobs became uncontrollable as she aimed, but she couldn't mutter those two simple words. Images of herself in that tent after the final battle came flooding into her mind, piercing her vision...

She suddenly dropped the offending piece of wood and hugged her old professor tightly.

"I can't," she sobbed and cried, "I can't do it, I'm sorry I'm so sorry."

"Shhh," Minerva cooed hugging her back as tightly as she could, tears of her own spilling onto her cheeks, "I need you to do this. A final gift to me Hermione, one last gift to an old woman."

"I can't," she sobbed again, "I'm sorry I can't."

"You can," she continued softly, "You asked a favour of me, now I am asking one of you. Return the favour, be brave like the Gryffindor woman I know you are."

Hermione seemed to half compose herself at those last words as she stood back from the dying woman. She looked down at her forgotten wand, tears still staining her eyes.

"A favour," she repeated shakily as she picked it up and aimed once more.

"A favour," Minerva echoed.

At that moment, Draco came into the room. When he saw what was going on, he looked as though he was going to stop her, but a glare from Severus told him that this was planned. Severus then turned to Hermione.

"We haven't got much time," he told her, "They're coming through now."

In that instant, with a few strangled sobs and cries, she made up her mind and forced her crying to cease.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, "I wish there could have been another way."

"As do we all," the old woman smiled and then turned to Malfoy, "You look after her. If I see her on the otherside anytime soon, I'll come back and haunt you until the day you join us."

Malfoy had to smirk, but found the restraint to say nothing to her at all.

"Be safe Hermione," she turned back to the younger woman, "And kick his lordship into the dirt where he belongs."

Hermione nodded and finally pulled herself together completely.

"Avada Kedavra," she whispered. The green light erupted from her wand and within an instant, McGonagall fell limp to the back of her pillows.

Time seemed to stand still. All Hermione could do was stand there and gaze at her lifeless form. Her pale complexion, her eyes closed, mouth slightly parted as a small smile her lips, just as though she was sleeping and would awake at any moment.

"We need to go," Draco whispered quietly from her left.

She ignored him, not paying attention to what ever they needed anymore. She had just killed her former professor, someone she looked upon as a second mother, and they had to go?! She walked over to her body and placed a small kiss on the old woman's forehead, then she looked back at him.

She saw then that he had tears of his own clinging to his cheeks and that was what stopped her from screaming at him. She knew that he was hurting too.

"I'm ready now," she whispered, taking the bottle out from within her robes.

"They're in your chambers," Severus told her, "Use the fireplace," he pointed to the old fireplace and floo powder in the corner of the room.

Draco nodded and Hermione downed the potion in one. The effect was instantaneous. Her limbs went ridged, her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she began to seaze violently.

Draco scooped her up into his arms and ventured over to the fire place, taking a hand full of floo powder and standing inside the grate.

Before he uttered their escape, he turned back to his old professor.

"I promise," he whispered to her before he said, "ST MUNGOS EMERGENCY!"

He came out of a different fireplace than before and this time, he was bombarded by healers all wanting to help.

"What happened?" One demanded of him.

"She was testing a potion and then all of a sudden this," he told them as they took her out of his arms and lead him into the emergency department. However Draco was not going to get in there, as he was spotted by two people he wanted so desperately to avoid.

Just as he was about to walk in the doors, The Dark Lord himself and Avery stepped out of the visitor's fireplace.

"Malfoy!" Avery barked, "What are you doing here?"

"Professor Grant has been hurt," he told them.

Voldemort's eyes flashed. Seeming to have completely forgotten his agenda, he marched straight into the emergency department. Draco distantly heard him barking orders to the healers and each and everyone of them left, one with Hermione levitating behind him.

Draco looked completely shocked until the Dark Lord re-emerged and started talking to them.

"Avery," he ordered, "Go and check on McGonagall. Malfoy, you may follow me to my ward."

"My Lord," Avery interrupted, "Perhaps it would be better if I went-"

"Are you questioning me?" He asked him, his eyes murderous upon the dark haired man.

"No My Lord, no," he recoiled quickly, "I will go to McGonagall."

With that they departed, Avery to the second floor, Draco confusedly with the Dark Lord to the seventh.


	11. A not so welcome home, Part one

**Hello Lovely Readers**

**Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy it! I may end up putting this story on hiatus so that I can focus on my other story at the moment, so the next chapter may take a little while, however, let me know what you think. Depending on how many reviews I get, I may put the other one on hiatus instead.**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.

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Chapter Eleven: A Not So Welcome Home, part one

The swooping _'crack!' _of apparation filled the air of Hogsmeade, as woman dressed all in black leisurely made her way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

It had been an exciting, exhilarating, fantastic few months in France! She had fought some rather skilled wizards, tortured some filthy muggles, made a name for herself...of course, she had lost her husband in the process, but she had made sure that he was avenged, and she didn't really like him all that much anyway. She had only married him so that she could do her lord and master good service, which he understood perfectly. Hence forth, why they had never had children.

As if she would let that ugly bastard touch her anyway. He wasn't even good looking.

She found herself almost skipping as she reached the high gates and the stone serpents that guarded them. The dark lord's wards granted her access without much complication, recognising her magic in an instant.

_And so it should! _She thought indignantly as she crossed the grounds, _I am his most loyal, most faithful..._

She made her way to the castle doors where a guard was waiting for her with, what was unmistakeably, a secrecy sensor. Apparently Avery had bumped up security since she had been on vacation.

He stepped in front of her as she came to stand on the last step leading to the great oak doors.

"Sorry madam," he grunted, holding up the infernal device, "Standard procedure now a days."

"I've brought dark objects in here before," she told him indignantly.

"It's not to remove them," he told her quickly, also holding up what appeared to be a check list, "Just to see what you've got, where from and what for."

She put on her most imperious glare, sending a shiver down his spine as he began to run the damn contraption down the length of her body. All of a sudden, there was a loud screech that issued from the stick.

He gazed up at her questioningly. She huffed and removed the jar of poison that was hiding underneath her hood.

"Basalisk venom," she told him as she placed it on the table and he did something with his list, "Last stocks from Borgan and Burks."

He nodded and then proceded to move it downwards to her declote where a pendant hung around her neck. It screeched once more and she rolled her eyes.

"Gift from my late husband," she informed him, "Curse locket."

"What does it do?"

"Removes the head of anyone else who wears it," she smirked.

He made another tick on his list and moved downward once more. He had barely moved, when it screeched again at her chest. This time he was really intrigued, and even though the look in his eyes reminded her of Rodolphus, she somehow controlled her temper. Both her hands dove inside her dress, much to his pleasure, and pulled out a couple of galleons.

"What do they do?"

"They're cursed to light their owner on fire if they spend them," she said giddily, "Confiscated them from a vendor in France."

"Why'd you confiscate them?" He asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Because I wanted to use them," she pouted innocently and he made another check on his list.

He moved the secrecy sensor down to her midsection and the contraption howled and screamed so loudly that he had to jump on it to stop it from screeching.

"Do I even want to know?" He asked her, eying her apprehensively.

"It's a gift for the Dark Lord," she smiled evily, "It's not _for_ you to know. I believe I've let you live long enough."

He didn't seem to register what she had said until a flash of green light hit him and he fell to the cold stone floor. She smirked and stepped inside, just over his body.

As soon as she had set one foot in the door, she was greeted by a loud melodious voice.

"Bella," Avery said with a large smile on his face, "Good to see you back! How was your vacation? I only had the chance to see you once."

"Memorable," she said as he embraced her, his hand running rather low on her back, "I see you heard about Rodolphus," she commented as it slid right down to her arse.

"So sorry for your loss," he whispered seductively in her ear.

"I'm not," she whispered back, "But if you don't get your hand off my arse, I'll send you to see him for me."

Avery quickly recoiled and stepped back from her slightly. They were friendly enough for her to give him a warning at least. Had anyone else tried that, apart from the Dark Lord himself, they would have been on the ground crying for their mothers before they got a chance to speak.

"I may be up for a little _fun_ Marcus," she told him, "But I'm not one of your whores. Speaking of which, how's the new Potions Mistress?"

The look on Avery's face changed from pleasant, to an evil smirk. Bella would absolutely flip when she found out.

"Difficult in my department," he told her, "But the Dark Lord likes her very much."

Bella raised her eyebrows in slight shock.

"So she's not a whore then?" She asked, mildly surprised.

"No, but that makes the chase all the more exciting," he told her, linking her arm with his own and started walking, "I love a challenge after all. Haven't had one since you."

"I was married to an idiot who looked like he was a descendant of trolls," she rolled her eyes, "Of course I was going to be a challenge. I was just as bored as you were. Has the Dark Lord taken an interest in her?"

"Oh yes and I don't blame him! You should see her Bella!" He said excitedly, "She's rutheless! Studied under Aurelius Bode and everything! I think she would give Severus a good run for his galleons if he was still alive. Come to think of it, she'd probably give you-"

"Don't finish that sentence Avery," she said menacingly, "Or you might find yourself joining my husband sooner than you think. What _kind_ of an interest has he taken in her?"

"Well at first I thought it was purely a business thing," he said of handedly as they walked up the Grand Staircase, "But then there was that thing he did in her chambers-"

"What thing?" She asked incredulously.

"...And when she was injured by one of her own potions he moved her to his private ward," Avery continued.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, "He never moved me there..."

"And when we were told that she was actually going to live," he told her as they reached her rooms on the seventh floor, "He told me that she was going to be his personal Potions Mistress! He hasn't had one of those since-"

"Since Severus," she drawled for him. She had heard it all before how Severus was a genius with a cauldron, she didn't need to hear it again. Hopefully this bitch wasn't as sarcastic or traitorous as that bastard.

"Well, yes," Avery said as they stopped outside her door, "But after what the Dark Lord told me about her and that boy..."

"What boy?" she asked as she fumbled around in her robes for her key, by passing her gift for the Dark Lord as she went, which hissed anrgilly at being disturbed, "Oh shut up you beast," she told it quickly.

"Did you register that thing?" He asked her with an apprehensive look in his eye.

"That reminds me," she said as she searched her pockets, "You need a new guard, now, what boy?"

"Bella!" He said exasperatedly, "Why must you always murder my security guards?"

"Because they're idiots and they inconvenience me," She told him as she moved to the bottom of her shoe, "Now, what boy?!"

"Oh," he said, rolling his eyes, "A group of boys tried to get her _attention_ at the welcome feast and the Dark Lord noticed. He thought it better to let her deal with it, you know, test her out, and apparently she passed with flying colours! All it took was two potions and one of the boys suffered an agonising death! She has a brilliant grasp of pain Bella, I think you'll like her!"

"Oh bugger it," she said as she drew her wand instead and blasted her door open.

"You certainly are destructive today dear," he smirked.

"It's what vacation does to me," she told him as she stepped inside.

But something was wrong. All her things weren't there! Her bedside table had nothing on it, her drawers were empty, her storage cupboard was completely empty! But the one thing that _was there_, was a new painting hanging just above her desk.

Severus smiled at her patronizingly and she could do nothing but glare back.

"What," she said through gritted teeth, "Is _he_ doing here, and _where_ are all my things!"

"Were you not told?" Severus said in a very good imitation of Umbridge, "You're moving into the dungeons Bella. The Dark Lord's personal Potions Mistress always lives in close proximity to our Lord and Master."

"WHAT?!" She screeched, "I AM HIS MOST FAITHFUL! MOST LOYAL! HOW CAN I BE THROWN OUT FOR THE NEW BITCH!"

The thing inside her robes hissed loudly at the noise and moved.

"SHUT IT!" She told her belly and it only hissed louder.

"What," came a soft voice from behind them, "Is going on?"

Bella instantly turned around and put on her most beautiful smile.

"My Lord," she said sweetly, "These, _imbeciles_, have made a dreadful mistake. They're saying that I-"

"There is no mistake Bella," he told her quietly, "You are moving to the dungeons, effective immediately."

Her eyes widened in shock at his words. It was impossible! Completely, undeniably impossible!

"But-" she stuttered, "But m-my Lord-"

"No buts Bella," he said harshly, "You will do as you are ordered, or have you changed your view of me so quickly after your vacation."

"No My Lord," she said quickly, bowing to him as he walked towards her "I am still your most loyal follower-"

"Then do not disappoint me," he said quietly, taking her face in his hands and raising her too look at him, "I know you are grieving for Rodolphus," there was a snort from Severus in the corner, "But you must always follow my orders. Do you understand?"

"Yes My Lord," she whispered, gazing at him with affection, "Always My Lord, always for you."

"Good," he whispered, "Now take your things to the dungeons. There are spare quarters set up for you until such time as we move Miss Grant's possessions."

"If I may My Lord," Severus jumped in shortly, "Miss Grant is a very private woman, and as you have seen in..._past experiences_, she is a very capable witch-"

"Merlin Snape are you complimenting her?" Bella asked in mock awe.

"I only give praise to those whom deserve it Bella," he sneered, "Just because you are not, does not mean that no one else is," Bella scowled as he turned back to the Dark Lord, "I can tell you now that she has several death wards around her underwear drawer alone."

Avery made a curious sigh but was ignored.

"Your point being Severus?" The Dark Lord asked of him.

"The night she was poisoned," The painting continued, "She and Draco Malfoy had agreed to embark upon..._new relations_, for want of a better word. I believe he would be the only one that stood a chance of moving her things without being blasted into next millennium."

Avery looked completely thrown off, Bella looked even more scorned than before and the Dark Lord simply smirked at the new development.

"So that's why he's been hanging around her bedside," the bald man muttered quietly, "Very well, Malfoy shall move her things the moment he comes back from St Mungos and Bella can move in then."

"What's this?" Bella suddenly interrupted, "My nefew? Taking up with some whore? Moping at her bedside like some love sick puppy?"

"If you insult her again Bella, you will have to be punished," Voldemort hissed, but he wasn't the only one.

Bella's robes gave another angry hiss now that it noticed the Dark Lord was in the room. He raised the muscle where his eye brow should have been.

"That python inside your robes has a colourful vocabulary," he commented, "Why is he here?"

Bella suddenly flushed.

"He is a gift for you my Lord," she told him, giggling slightly, "I thought he would make a wonderful companion for Nagini."

The large python suddenly unwrapped itself from her waist and slithered to the floor, hissing something to his new master as he hurried to join him.

Voldemort hissed something back and smirked as he wrapped himself around his own waist.

"You've done well Bella," Voldemort whispered as he stroked the snakes black and scaly skin, "Nagini will be pleased."


	12. Leave it to me

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**Sorry that it has been a very long time, but with Christmas, New Years, home dramas and things like that, posting has been very very difficult. I hope that this more than makes up for it. Pleas leave me know if it does or doesn't. This chapter was also rather difficult to get right too. Having Bellatrix enter the story wasn't my original plan, so it inadvertently gave me some more complications. Things might be a little weird for a while, so please just bare with me.  
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**Disclaimer:Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.

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Chapter Twelve: Leave it with me

She didn't dare move. She had no idea where she was, she had no idea if she was even conscious, but what she did know, was that if she moved a single inch, she would have to scream.

Why had she picked that potion? Why did she have to pick something that was potentially lethal and painful to boot? Why couldn't she put some sort of illusion on everyone concerned.

_Because that's not practical and you know it,_ she told herself, _imagine the amount of people you would have to hex to make that sort of thing happen._

"Why do I always have to be right," she mumbled, a groan escaping her lips afterwards.

"And what are you always right about Miss Grant?" Asked a voice to her right, one that she recognised...one that she dreaded.

She opened her eyes, almost regretting it as a bright light blinded her completely. When it finally cleared, she came to gaze upon a pair of cool crimson orbs. They stared at her with intensity she had never thought possible from a human being, but then again, could you really call Lord Voldemort human?

"M-many things My Lord," she rasped out, "Where am I?"

"My private ward at St Mungos," He answered her, and she suddenly felt an icy hand on her forehead, "Malfoy is outside, waiting to see you, but I thought it best for him to wait until I found out exactly what happened first."

Hermione had been ready for this. She had picked out the perfect cover story so that she would be able to get away with going to St Mungos.

"I grabbed the wrong potion," she groaned, still not opening her eyes, "I was distracted. I had recieved an owl from home. It was my Mother telling me that my boyfriend had been ill and that I needed to return to America as soon as I could. I was meant to grab a sort of calming draught, it's one of my own invention. Ever since my lessons with Aurelius, every single potion I take needs to be twice as strong to take any sort of effect, seems his lessons gave me a type of immunity against most."

"I see," he mused. To her shock and fright, he looked almost skeptical.

"Yes," she continued, "I was so worried about him that I must have grabbed the wrong one."

"You're _boyfriend_," he mused, "You never said that you had been bound to anyone."

"I have been avoiding Professor Avery's advances profusely," she told him, "Besides the fact that I think he is a slime ball, I thought that would have been evidence enough."

"Apparently not," he said quietly, "You disappoint me Miss Grant. I thought you were smarter than the rest of these love sick fools."

"I am," she told him almost coldly, "I said that I was bound to someone, I never said that I was in love with him. I care for him greatly, but that does not mean that I would take a killing curse for him."

"Yet you almost killed yourself out of worry," he told her, "You've been unconscious for nearly three days and with the pain you are undoubtedly suffering from, I would say that is at least the equivalent of the killing curse, wouldn't you?"

She looked away from him, furrowing her brow, looking as though she was trying to sus out her feelings towards this _'boyfriend'_ of hers.

"We've been away from each other for so long," she whispered, "Things may have changed. It may not have been love that I was feeling."

"Perhaps _guilt_," he told her, "Would be a better word?"

She looked at him confusedly.

"Did you think your affair with Malfoy would go unnoticed?" He asked her softly, "Severus was most accommodating with information about the dinner that I and Avery interrupted."

She did some quick thinking and decided just as quickly that Severus would only have said something like this for a reason, but she really was going to burn his painting one day if he kept being so forth coming with information.

"You must understand that I have been away from Roonil for a long time," she said quietly, "There are certain..._urges_ that need to be quelled every once and a while."

"Roonil?" The Dark Lord queried, shifting his hand slightly.

"Yes," she smiled, "Roonil Wazlib. Do not be fooled by the name, he is a brilliant man. I would never dream of becoming Mrs Wazlib, however, he was a fine man. A fine wizard."

She had to smirk at her tribute. She had remembered the name Fred and George had unwittingly given him in sixth year and had secretly wished to call him that ever since, yet had never been given the opportunity. Harry and Ron would have been proud of her.

The Dark Lord scanned her eyes, looking for lies and deceit, but once more she was ready, placing up her walls, even though they were very weak considering where she was and why. However, he seemed satisfied and let the subject rest.

"Malfoy has not left this ward since he first brought you here," he told her, "It may be wise to inform him of your love for another."

"A kind gesture, yet not necessary," she informed him coldly, "I have already warned him what the nature of our..._relationship_, for want of a better word, is to be. If he does not get it by now, I will have to start treating him with the same disdain that I do Professor Avery."

He smirked at her, seemingly seeing the Hera Grant that he enjoyed spending time with. She really was an intriguing woman. He gazed down at her intently as silence descended upon them once more.

"Forgive me My Lord," she suddenly spoke, "But why am I here in your private ward and not in the potion and plant poisoning ward?"

At that question, he leaned in and softly whispered into her ear.

"Because my personal Potions Mistress only ever gets the best," he told her.

Ah, so he had decided for her what she would do. It was a little disheartening to have the choice taken away from her so formally, yet she hid it well. She had never expected to be given an official choice, yet to hear it vocalised so firmly...It just made her feel that she had no control over anything any more, that her fate was no longer in her hands.

"From now on, you will receive the best of everything," he continued, "The best labs, the best ingredients...and if you are ever so unfortunate as to swallow the wrong potion again, you will receive the best care. Your quarters will no longer be in the dungeons, but next to my own private rooms within the castle and you will receive the dark mark as soon as you are well enough to take it."

Her eyes would have widened if she was not too weak to do so. She couldn't take the dark mark! Not without screaming her head off she couldn't! And as for her quarters moving next to Voldemort? Why on earth would he want her to do that, it's not as if he would ever need her immediately.

"You will no longer take any detentions," he carried on, "And if the Carrows ever try to push any upon you, you have my authority to punish them as much as you wish. Your classes will continue, however your work for me will come first. If you ever find yourself in need of help, you will ask one of the others to take your potions class for you and you will continue on what ever project I have you working on. You now have more authority than even the Headmaster of Hogwarts, simply because you are working for me. Do you understand all that has been said?"

"Yes," she said, "But the authority is not needed. I know how to balance work and..._extracurricular_ activities."

"Reguardless," he waved her off, "It is yours."

"Surely the other Professors will become jealous of my time with you My Lord," she argued feebly, "Jealous of the rewards I would be receiving without even trying to gain your favour."

"They have no business to be envious of you," he retorted, "You may not have tried, but you have earned my favour. How could I possibly let your talent slip through my fingers when I have witnessed what it can do first hand? You have skill that far surpasses even that of Severus Snape, and I am not about to let that kind of skill fall into the wrong hands. You will find that I am a merciful lord if I get what I want and you have delivered so far. Do not disappoint me Hera."

She gazed up at him through half lidded eyes and whispered, some how still maintaining her pride and prestige.

"I will my Lord."

With that, the Dark Lord stood and smirked down at her, removing his ice cold fingers from her forehead. It was a shame, considering she was burning through her skin. It was almost a comfort when he was there, just knowing that the most powerful man on earth was watching over her...Even if he was a sadistic bastard.

"Malfoy is standing outside," he informed her, "His visit will be very brief or you will find yourself without your boy toy. You are much too tired for..._extracuricular activities_ at the moment."

She was not stupid enough to argue. She wouldn't have put it past him to crucio her a couple of times for insubordination, even though she was already on death's door. She simply watched her soon to be master sweep from the room and her soon to be Death Eater colleague walk in. Hermione allowed her breathing to become heavier at the point, knowing that there was no way the Dark Lord could sense her distress when he was out of the room. Hermione looked at Malfoy with a weakened gaze, almost defeated in a way, and yet still completely defiant.

"I take it you heard about Severus' slip then?" He said as he drew closer.

He looked pale, more so than usual, drawn and tired. He had dark circles under his steel gaze, and the gaze itself was hard, laced with ice so cold that she couldn't help but shiver.

"What's the matter?" She asked him.

"Aside from Severus being an idiotic piece of paper," he almost spat at her, looking away.

"So he told the Dark Lord that we were dating...or _screwing_, seeing as I've now changed the nature of our relationship for our master's benefit," she told him, "It's not a big deal."

"It is too a big deal," he snapped at her, "Do you have any idea what he's done! What havoc he's brought upon you now! You'll be dead within two weeks of stepping inside the castle!"

"If it wasn't for him," she told him, somehow finding the strength to be rational, "I would be dead much sooner and you would be left with an impossible mission. There has to be a reason as to why he said what he did."

"You place your faith in a painting," he said, now gaining volume as he became more irritated, "You place not only your fate, but the fate of the entire _world_ in something made of oil and wood!"

"I place my faith in someone who did far more for this world than you will ever know," she told him, feeling her anger growing, "It may only be a representative of the man who once was, but it is still a piece of him. Even oil and wood can be used in times like these."

There was a tense silence between them, each glaring at the other, Malfoy becoming more and more angered by the minute by her calm demeanor. Never in a million years did Hermione think that she would be defending Severus Snape...Or rather his portrait. But there was something more in Malfoy's gaze than anger, something that she hadn't seen in him since...Fear. That's what it was. There was clearly something that he was holding back from her, something that frightened him, something that he thought would frighten her.

"We don't have a lot of time Malfoy," she told him sternly, taking on the leadership roll of their strange arrangement out of his hands once more, "You are going to have to be quick with your explanations so that I have time to think them over and come up with solutions."

He looked for a moment as though he may start yelling, however he found some degree of control inside his perfect blond head and sighed, his gaze more controlled now.

"Severus told them what he did," he explained, "Because Voldemort was planning on moving your things two days ago-"

"Wait," she stopped him, "How long have I been out?"

"About a week."

She groaned and looked as though she would say something else, but he stopped her, holding up his palm for silence.

"You said to be quick so don't interrupt," he told her and then continued when he felt she wouldn't say another word, "We couldn't have them just marching into your rooms and digging around without supervision, so Severus," he spat the name as though it was dirt in his mouth, "Told them that we were dating and that I was the only one with a possibility of moving your things."

"Have my things been moved?"

"Yes."

"So where's the problem?"

He sighed once more, trying to keep his temper under control.

"He told the wrong people," he explained, "Yes, he told the Dark Lord and he told Avery-"

"Completely acceptable, so again I ask, where is the problem?"

He paused for a moment, hesitating. It would probably scare her out of her mind, knowing what he knew. He didn't know if she could handle anymore-

"Spit it out Malfoy!" She told him, glaring at him pointedly for wasting time, "We haven't got all bloody day!"

He looked her in the eye as he spoke, and placed his hand on hers, hoping that the contact would keep her calm.

"My Aunt is back," he told her quietly, "And Bellatrix is not happy about being moved so far away from her master. She's not so happy about our arrangement either."

Hermione froze, her eyes widened from shock and her bottom lip trembled in fear. Her muse, the woman who had taught her everything she knew about pain and suffering was back from her vacation, and she was pissed off at her for taking over the chambers that were next to her master. She thought she might panic for a moment, she thought she may ignore her pain and simply run out the door, until another thought entered her mind. Her gaze changed from fearful, to thoughtful in only a matter of seconds, her head cocked to the side, her brow furrowed.

"I know that you're more than likely scared out of your wits," Malfoy continued, sitting on the edge of her bed and taking her hand in his fully, trying to keep her calm, "And you should be. She's mental and she wants to kill you now, but you need to remain calm and-"

"Shut up Malfoy, I'm trying to think," she said quietly and calmly, no trace of fear in her voice at all.

He looked at her curiously but didn't say a thing. He simply waited for her to speak once more.

"Leave it with me," she told him, "Go along with this whole charade for the moment and keep looking for the book. I'll deal with dear Bella."

"Hermione, did that potion damage your brain or something!" He exclaimed, "You can't possibly think of taking her on. The best option we have is to let me kill her when I get back to the castle and-"

"I'm going to be taking on the Dark Lord aren't I?" She said firmly, "I may as well start with right hand woman. Let me deal with it. I mean it Malfoy, if you touch her, I won't let you in any more."

"Hermione this is suicide!"

She looked up at him, all seriousness in her gaze.

"I'm more than prepared to take the risk," she told him, looking him straight in the eye, "Leave her to me."

There was a sudden jolt behind them, as the door opened and Zacharias Smith limped in. His face was bloodied, it was clear that bones were broken in several different places on every single limb and he had more than likely been tortured beyond his sanity. Hermione was surprised that he could open his eyes, let alone stand guard at her door.

"Time's up Malfoy," he rasped.

He gave a stiff nod to Smith and then bent his head towards Hermione, his lips only inches from hers as he whispered.

"I don't know what you're up to," he said quietly, brushing his knuckles against her cheek, "Just make sure you don't die for it."

She involuntarily closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Was it her imagination, or was he part veela? She had always suspected that the Malfoys were related to the Delacours.

"There are some things worth dying for," he continued, "But revenge isn't won of them."

He placed a kiss on her cheek and leaned back. to his surprise, Hermione smirked at him.

"Then there's no point in me living," she whispered to him.

He looked at her sadly for the briefest of moments, but got up off of her bed anyway and walked out the door without another word, but not before witnessing Zacharias Smith fall to the floor in a pool of his own blood.


	13. Another promise made,another letter sent

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**Yes, I know, its weird that I'm posting so soon, but I've struck a little cord of inspiration. This chapter brings back one of my favorite characters, albeit for only a moment. I hope you enjoy it and don't find it too weird or too OOC for what 'Mione is about to do and what the other character is about to do either. It's an essential part of Draco's development, so please, just go with me here.**

**A big huge thank you to Sapphire Water Elf Princess who has offered to clean up my horrible grammar and spelling mistakes! She'll be going through all of my previous chapters as well as this one when she finds the time and will be picking out all my imperfections. Everyone loves a good editor, and I think this is mine! Thanks heaps!**

**Disclaimer:Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.

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Chapter thirteen: Another promise made, another letter sent

_Scorching heat was all she felt as she wondered through the black deserts of her mind. A white, blazing sun, high above her, smiled wickedly at her pain as every step she took felt like she was running a marathon. Her eyes were growing weary, her limbs were made of stone, burnt to a crisp and her mouth was a desert in itself, dry, full of salt and pain. The black sand swam between her toes, forming blisters on her feet, making hell seem like heaven in her sorrow. She looked up at the ominous sky, full of water yet to descend, teasing her with its promises of comfort and salvation. The heavens opened up to her with a fearful roar, as thunder clapped and lightning flashed before her eyes._

_But it wasn't water that coated her skin and brought her relief. She fell to her knees and closed her eyes at the touch of the cool liquid, feeling it caress her skin with every drop, but it was too thick to be water, to dark to be rain. She opened her eyes and gazed at her hands. She didn't scream in horror at the little red stains, she didn't even whimper. She simply stared at them, thinking of what it could mean._

_Her attention was drawn from her hands at another loud boom, though this one was not from the sky. It came from beneath her knees, little spits of sand flying in all directions at the sound. She quickly found her grip and stood, moving away from the small hole she had dropped herself in. As she stepped back another boom was heard and black sand piled upon itself over and over again, forming a hill rather than a hole. As more sand fell, more sand emerged from deep within, and then something else crawled out._

_A finger at first, bloated and rotted to the core, then a hand, slimy and covered in weeds, dirty water seeping from the skin. The hand turned into an arm, the arm into a shoulder and behind it, a leg stretched and contorted to move in front, like some insect. This lead to a back, another leg, another arm and eventually, a face. A familiar face, whose eyes were once as blue as her own, were now as black as night. Water flowed from his lips, clumps of his red hair merged with the sand as he emerged and kneeled before her, wearing the same rags he had been the day she found him. He looked up at her through his black orbs and before she could move, he had a hand closed over her wrist, a clammy, wet, rotting hand._

_Only one word escaped his lips..._

_"Hermione..."_

This time, she had to scream. Her lungs emptied with the sound of her piercing cries as tears escaped her eyes and sweat drenched her skin. She ran her hands all over her body, trying to scratch away the feeling of the blood, no- _His_ blood on her skin,_ his_ hand on her arm, the sound of _his_ voice ringing in her ears.

She was hysterical when he walked in, clawing at herself, crying her eyes out. Her magic was out of control as the glass on her bedside table shattered, a painting lit itself on fire and a medicine cabinet flew across the room. To him, the power within her was almost mesmerising, but it was potentially leathal if not quelled or controlled.

He walked towards her, hand stretched forth, touching only slightly to her shoulder. The effect was instantaneous. She whipped around, quick as lightning, shoving his hand away, the picture frame of a flaming fruit bowl flying towards him in an instant. He whipped out his wand in a fluid motion and the painting was vanished from sight before it came into contact with his icy flesh. It was clear that she didn't know who he was, otherwise this would never have happened. He then did the only thing that would snap her out of her hallucination.

"Crucio!"

She immediately stopped trying to scratch away all her pain and was hit with a thousand knives stabbing her, both inside and out. She screamed again and again, writhing until her body could take no more. It was only then that he released her from the curse. He stared coldly down at her, her breathing uneven, here eyes wide from fear, but no longer from her dreams. Her head slowly turned in his direction and then to the clock on the wall that read three o'clock in the morning. Hermione took a moment to catch her breath before she took him in fully. His eyes were just as cold as she remembered, a steely gaze permanently planted on his immaculate face. His hair was thinning slightly, and he had a few more wrinkles than she remembered, but he was still pristine, the epitome of high society, holding a velvet bag in his left hand as though it were the crown jewels, and knowing him, it probably was.

"I had no idea that know it alls were afraid of the dark," he sneered, the classic smirk playing on his lips.

"Who-who are you?" she asked after a bit, still trying to regain her breath. She knew exactly who he was, but she would be damned if she let him know that.

"Don't play dumb with me Granger," he said, looking down his nose at her, "I'd know those screams anywhere. You forget that it was in _my_ manor that you learnt everything you knew about torture. When I was informed of your..._expertise_, I knew that it had to be you. No one but my ex-sister in law could destroy both the mind and body with a single blow."

She looked at him with fright now, completely unable deny Lucius Malfoy's accusations, completely void of any escape. The only thing she could hope for, was for Draco to suddenly turn up out of the blue. That was what really sucked about having only _one_ ally; there was no one there to save you when said ally's father turned up. He registered the fear in her gaze and his smirk only grew wider.

"Relax Granger," he said, "If my intention was to kill you, I would have done so while you were having your little fit."

"So you're going to hand me over then? Give the pleasure of killing his last remaining threat away to your master?"

To her shock and surprise, he sneered at the comment.

"He is no more my master than yours!" He hissed, his Slytheren nature taking over.

"Oh please," she goaded him. If she was going to die, she may as well enjoy it, "Do you really expect me to believe that dragon piss? Or did you finally see that you were following some fake with a fetish for torture, pain and misery."

"From what I hear, he's going to be your master too," Lucius smirked.

"I do what I have to," she glared, "As does your son."

He looked at her, her face full of both fury and fear at the same time. Merlin, it was like looking at all three of them at once. Potter's stubbornness, Weasley's hot temper and Granger's fearful determination all at the same time. He had to wonder what kind of magic she had used. His eyes widened as he gazed upon her. He hadn't expected to hear about his son so soon.

"You, have spoken to him?" He asked, his expression changing from a sneer to a slightly hopeful glance.

She scrutinized him. Something was completely off. It was as if he hadn't seen his son in so many years...Draco never spoke to her about him either, never once uttered his name when in remembrance. She realised that she had never once wondered where Lucius Malfoy had been until now. She gazed over his appearance once more, this time with a fine tooth comb, rather than a superficial gaze. His lines and wrinkles were not of a well and dignified man, but of the weak and frail. He was clutching at his side as if his life depended on it and holding onto a blue velvet bag with his remaining strength, he had a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow and his face looked more strained than she had ever seen it before. Yes, something definitely wasn't right.

"If you do not intend to hand me over or end my life why are you here?" She asked him quietly.

"To do something right by my son," he whispered, "And avenge my wife."

His breathing suddenly became very uneven and he could no longer hold himself up. He collapsed on to the side of her bed, only just being able to grab onto it before hitting the floor. Hermione immediately vacated it and went to his side, pushing him onto the covers with what was left of her strength. She didn't know why she did it, why she gave up her safe lodgings for this vile man who did nothing but scorn her and look down upon her kind, who could probably kill her at any moment, even in his given state. She walked over to the fallen medicine cabinet and grabbed a potion she recognised, quickly moving back to his side and shoving it down his throat.

"What was that?" He asked her feebly.

"Something that will keep you alive," she told him, "At least long enough for you to explain."

He looked at her, completely confused. He hadn't expected her to listen to him so easily, thinking that she may just yell for help and he would be carted off to the Dark Lord without protest. Hermione picked up on his skepticism and as she collapsed into a nearby chair, she explained.

"Draco is my business partner," she sneered at him, "Anything you have to say that might throw him off balance, I have to hear about first. I can't risk him losing his mind when we are right in the heart of the dragon's den."

"You think I will throw him off balance?"

"He idolized you when we were at school," she glared at him, "I don't know if that has changed, but I guarantee that anything you do say will affect him."

"Is that all he is to you Granger?" He asked her, "A business partner?"

"It is all he needs to be," she told him coldly.

She removed his hand from where it clutched around his middle and was horrified to see a large gaping hole where half of his stomach should have been. She had only seen two injuries like this before, one in this very hospital and the other back at Godrick's Hollow.

"It seems the Dark Lord has a new pet," he told her in a bitter laugh, "Struck me only moments ago in the forbidden forest. I only have an hour or so to live."

She scrutinized the wound and then lifted her eyes to meet his in a cold icy stare. His steel gaze had lost its sharp edge since the last time she saw him, but she figured that was more to the fact that he needed her help, and didn't wish to try and frighten her anymore.

"How did you get here undetected?" She asked him.

"Your guards went off to dinner about an hour ago and have not returned," he smirked.

She cursed under her breath at Voldemort's bad taste in lackeys and began to try and make Lucius a little more comfortable, summoning a bottle of Firewhiskey from the nurse's lounge just outside the door. She had to admit that the Dark Lord had very conveniently located his private ward.

"How did you know I'd be here?" She asked him, pouring a couple of shots for the two of them.

"Word travels fast in Hogwarts," he told her, "The Order of the Phoenix is not the only one with spies inside the castle."

He accepted the drink with shaking hands as shock began to set in. She couldn't help but look upon him with pity. After all her years on the run and all the years she had known him, not once did she think she would ever find him in such a state.

"You don't have a lot of time," she said quietly, looking away from him, "Say what you have to say now before it is too late."

He sighed, his head resting on his pillow as he downed his shot glass in one. He then reached into the blue velvet bag that he clutched like a life raft, and pulled out with a heave, severed head of Nagini. He looked at it with pride before setting it down on her bedside table and then pulling out a small jar of what could only be Basalisk venom and a small silver dagger.

"Every victroy comes with a cost," he told her simply, "This one is mine."

She stared incredulously from the dagger, to the head, to the venom and then finally resting on Malfoy himself.

"How did you know?" She whispered.

"I found out what the diary was years after the Chamber of Secrets was opened again," he explained, his voice becoming raspier with time, "I had no idea that it was a piece of him until then. I figured once the three of you didn't show up for school that you were looking for more."

"Why didn't you tell him?" She asked him, taking a shot of her own.

"He was threatening my family," he laughed bitterly, "Fear is a powerful thing, as is uncertainty. It was only a guess until recently. I never had the time to do the research that dear Dumbledore did until a few years ago."

"And what gave you that time?" She asked him, almost fearing the answer.

"The death of my wife," he said, closing his eyes, "Malfoys only ever look out for themselves. The Dark Lord sent Narcissa on a mission to Italy a few years back...about three years after you went into hiding I think. I can not tell you what it was, but she failed, dismally. He didn't like it, and when she returned, he took her from me. He tortured her in front of Draco and I, he killed her right before our eyes."

Hermione finally understood now. This was the missing piece of the puzzle that she had been searching for since she arrived. She understood what had been so powerful as to turn Draco to her side, as to make him risk his life to save the rest of the world, but it seemed as though Draco and his father had taken completely different paths.

"What did you do?" She asked him quietly.

"Draco remained calm," he continued, his voice becoming constricted from something other than the venom poisoning his system, "He watched in horror, but kept his emotions at bay. But I couldn't. She was the mother of my child, the woman I loved, I couldn't simply watch while he defiled her body with his wand."

She silently lay her hand on top of his in a friendly gesture, telling him he didn't need to continue. She could already see him throwing curses at the Dark Lord, screaming obscenities, picking up the body of his wife and running from the castle, into the forest where he had stayed for so long. He looked down at her hand in shock, knowing that she had gone through many changes over the years, thinking that she was incapable of sympathy after all she had been through. But among those changes, he saw more growth than he himself had ever gone through as a human being.

"I was exiled, my name banished, Draco forced to take my place in the inner circle," he told her, looking her deep in the eyes, "A place he should never have taken. He never deserved my life and I brought down upon us both. I'm not here because I want to be, I'm not here to confess my sins or ask forgiveness or give repentance. I am here because I must do what is right by my son."

He reached into the little velvet bag once more and pulled out a tiny crystal vile, full of a silvery substance that was neither liquid nor gas.

"My memories," he told her, "And Narcissa's, will become important soon. We stored them a long time ago, as an insurance policy for him. If you succeed, Draco will go to trial for sins which were not his choice. These will prove that he was forced into this life that he did not choose as I once did."

He lifted her hand from his and placed the vial within her palm, closing it with his own iron grip.

"You owe me nothing," he whispered, "But I have to ask that you put our differences aside for a common goal. Business partner or more, you know he deserves his chance to rid himself of my mistakes."

She looked down at him, shuddering at his icy touch. She didn't have any tears to shed for him, her eyes were dry, her lips were pursed and yet she could still feel pity and empathy for someone so vial. No, he wasn't so vial anymore, he was still human. He was a man who had redeemed himself, even if he hadn't intended to.

"Ok," she say quietly.

"Promise me," he said harshly, pulling her hand and bringing her only inches from his face, "Promise me you'll do what's best by him, even if it means hurting him, you must keep him safe."

She looked down at their intertwining hands for a moment and then back at him, all seriousness, empathy, serenity and sincerety written within her eyes.

"I swear I'll do what's best for him," she whispered.

He seemed satisfied, letting her go and falling back on the pillow behind him, a relieved smile playing on his lips. He had done what he had came here to do, and now, he could die in peace. She stared down at him and stretched her hand forth with another shot of amber liquid.

"I never knew know-it-alls drank," he coughed slightly.

"Neither did Severus," she told him, rolling her eyes, "Just goes to show that there's a lot about this know-it-all you _don't_ know."

There was a small pause between them, Hermione looking at the opposite wall, Lucius down at his glass.

"You said you only have an hour to live," she stated to which he nodded, "How do you plan on dying?"

"I hadn't thought about that," he laughed slightly, "I didn't plan to die in your bed, that much was certain."

She had to laugh at that, there was no way that she couldn't. But her face suddenly turned cold again as she spoke her next words.

"I'm sorry, but you _can't_ die here," she said with a pained expression, "What would I do with your body?"

She hated saying it. Telling someone you couldn't _live_ somewhere would have been normal, but being so horrible as to say that someone couldn't die where they stood was morbid and cruel.

"I know that," he said quietly, lifting himself from the pillow and swinging his legs to the side, "I didn't think that you could feel pitty for someone so evil as myself."

"Neither did I," she said, not having the heart to deny it, "A few years ago, maybe I wouldn't have."

"But things change," he smirked, "Relationships, times-"

"Perspectives," she finished in a whisper.

He nodded to her and finally found the strength to stand, using his cane to lean on and picking up his velvet bag and tucking the snake's head inside as she led him to the door of her ward. He looked down upon her once more, still clutching his side in pain.

"Thank you," he muttered quietly, trying desperately to keep his pride in tact. She simply nodded, not feeling the need to say anything else. It was then that here eyes rest on his hands.

"Do," she started to stutter, "Do you mind if-if I keep that?"

She pointed to the velvet bag that now held Nagini's head inside. He looked down at it for a moment in confusion and then back at her. But there was something in her eyes that told him that it was all for a reason, and perhaps a little fun. He smiled back wickedly, handing her the bag. But then something else changed within her gaze as she looked down at the smooth material. She suddenly looked thoughtful, meticulous and then she suddenly looked back up at him.

"Find the nearest fire place within this hospital and floo to a place called 'Phoenix Manor," she told him cryptically, "Tell the people there that Draco sent you for help and they'll let you in and help you there. You may not have to die. I know for a fact that one of them was bitten by Nagini before."

He looked at her shocked for a moment, no knowing what level of trust she was placing in him by telling him these simple cryptic words.

"You told me to do what was best by your son," she said to him, "What he needs more than anything is a father."

He made a stiff nod, grateful for her help once more, but as he turned to leave, she grabbed onto his arm to say one last thing.

"What ever you do," she said with fire a blaze in her eyes, "Do not mention my name or existence."

He looked at her confusedly once more, but nodded, knowing that everything was for a reason and turned away down the long dark halls of St Mungo's Hospital.

***

The Dark Lord sat with Avery once more in the Headmaster's office, listening to him drain tediously on about student propaganda, grades and triumphs. Merlin how he wished Severus or Rodolphus was still around. At least they knew how to hold a conversation that was not so one sided. Perhaps he would visit Hera's chambers later and have a conversation with the man's portrait instead. It really was a pity that he had been a traitor and the master of the Elder Wand, otherwise he would have enjoyed visiting the school to check up on its progress.

"Oh and you should have seen what Crabbe did next..." the Headmaster droned on.

If it wasn't for the fact that Voldemort needed a headmaster, this buffoon would have died years ago. No one else was qualified for the job any more. Bella would _kill_ all the students, the Carrows would _torture_ all the students, not that that wasn't fun, but it was still unnecessary. Flitwick and Sprout were no where near trust worthy, Sinstra looked promising, but still had to take the mark before he could even entertain the idea, Draco was a worthy candidate, however he was still inexperienced, and then there was Hera. His wonderful little Potions Mistress. Perhaps in time, after she had taken his mark, he may just kill Avery, save her from his dirty clutches and appoint her in his place. She was ruthless enough, knew how to exercise discretion, had an air about her that just screamed authority...She was absolutely perfect, and all she had to do now was be branded with the Dark Mark. All it took was a little persuasion and she would be his. It almost scared him how highly he thought of her, but he had to admit that it was well deserved.

"And then Sinstra flew from one end of the room to the next!" He finally finished, a joyful smile all over his face, "It was brilliant my Lord, absolutely brilliant!"

"Are you _quite_ finished?" He asked quietly, silent annoyance written all over his face, "I've had enough of your tedious talk of-"

He was cut off in mid sentence by a loud scratching on the window. An owl stood there on the window sil, its head cocked to the side in slight annoyance at having to wait. Avery turned to where his master was looking and suddenly jumped up to retrieve his mail. He opened the window, and instead of it waiting for him to untie the letter, it flew straight to the Dark Lord and held up its leg to him. He raised what would have been an eyebrow at the bird, which shook from fear at where he was forced to fly, still holding up his leg. With an exasperated sigh, Voldemort took the letter from the bird and the batty thing flew off out the window, just as another decided to enter with a blue velvet bag.

"This looks eerily familiar," Avery said quietly, getting ready to hide behind a pillar once more as his master opened the letter.

_Dearest Tom_

_I hope this letter finds you horribly sick and dying in your bed. It would make my job so much easier if you would just cark it._

_I know it has been a while since my last letter, but I have been busy with my plans for your destruction. You must understand that plotting to obliterate evil maniacs and his lackeys is tiresome work and very time consuming. I thought also that, since my last letter would have been such a shock, you might wish to wait a bit until my next._

_You will be glad to know that I have some more news for you, other than the fact that your demise is imminent. Apparently, killing the wives of your followers is not such a smart thing to do Tom. Lucius Malfoy was most accommodating when he came to visit me..._

The Dark Lord sneered at the name, remembering the man's betrayal and flight very clearly within his mind. Narcissa couldn't do as she was asked, therefore she deserved to die, that was the law he had set and Lucius had to live by it.

_He also gave me a little gift. I thought you may wish to see it, since it was in fact yours up until recently._

_Looking forward to your death, and remember that I will be watching._

_Sincerely_

_The Girl That Got Away._

_P.S I'm sure your new pet would love to have my gift for dinner._

Voldemort stared at the velvet bag that sat on his desk. This letter was not a warning as the other one had been, it was gloating, proud. As though this person had done something to him that he wasn't even aware of. That thought alone made looking inside the bag of velvet silk almost impossible. He looked over at Avery first and then down at the bag once more as he reached his hand inside. When he pulled out the head of his final horcrux, he shook from head to toe with rage and let out the mightiest roar that the Headmaster had ever heard.

He pointed his wand at the bird sitting on the desk and it was dead instantly, and then he pointed his wand everywhere else, firing jets of green light in all directions in his fury. The Headmaster stood stock still behind his pillar, waiting for his master to get his rage under controll, praying that he would not be hit by any of the rebounding curses as he went and hoping that who ever this person was, _never_ corresponded with his lord again.


	14. A not so welcome home, Part two

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**Thought you might like another chapter, though I'm not quite sure that you'll like this one. Please let me know what you think, but don't murder me just yet! I promise things will get better!**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, this wonderful world and most of the people in it with a few exceptions are not mine, though I would take really good care of it if it were :). I bow my head to Miss Rowling and her wonderful, magical mind.

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Chapter fourteen: A not so welcome home: Part Two.

Hermione spent another few days in the wizarding hospital, Draco constantly spending his breaks away from teaching by her side.

_Just like a good little boy toy should_, or at least that was how Avery sneered it when he stumbled upon them eating lunch together.

Draco informed her that the Headmaster was still a little sore at the idea that she was taken and was having more than enough trouble taking over her classes.

"You should have seen him with the first years yesterday," Draco said during one of their dinner conversations, trying not to laugh as he nearly choked on the ravioli he was eating.

"He's more than qualified to teach; it's just that he couldn't teach, even if the Dark Lord had his wand at his throat, the poor bloke. Teddy ended up burning a hole in his cauldron, Peterson covered the classroom in green goop, and you know Emma Standford? Little slip of a kid with curly red hair? Looks like a mixture of Weasley and you-" he paused as she thumped him. "What! It was a compliment! She's a good looking kid!" he exclaimed, glaring at her as he rubbed his arm and she sat there, smirking superiorly.

"Anyway," Draco continued, "She ended up lighting his hair on fire when her ladle ended up on his desk and its contents on his scalp!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at his re-enactment of Avery running around the classroom with his head on fire.

In the days that had followed Lucius' return, she had been lost in a thoughtful daze, even ignoring the Dark Lord on occasion which he didn't seem to mind, figuring that she was just in awe of him or something and therefore completely speechless. He really was full of himself. She constantly worried about Lucius, always hoping for some sort of sign that he was alive. She never once thought that she would be hoping that Lucius Malfoy would live through anything, but after everything he went through to get that snake and to secure Draco's future, he deserved at least a little bit of peace.

As the days went by, Hermione became stronger and was eventually allowed to leave the hospital, much to her relief, and be transferred back to her own rooms in the castle. She had to admit that she was nervous about taking those first few steps. If Lucius could recognize her, then how could Bellatrix not? The woman had tortured her for hours under the excuse of _'gaining information.' _Hermione shuddered as she remembered the hell she endured. She had been terrified that her master would find out that someone had broken into her vault, surely she would remember that time of her life very clearly as the only time that she had ever let her lord down.

Hermione packed the last of her things from the hospital drawers, gazing around the pure white room one last time. Hopefully, it would be the _last_ time she would land here. She packed the Basilisk venom, the silver dagger, Lucius' memories, and her wand on the inside of her robes, and stood to wait for who ever it was to accompany her from the hospital.

The Dark Lord had said that he might do it himself if he found the time, but she was hoping like hell that it would be Draco instead. In all the time that she had spent in the hospital wing, she hadn't once asked how he was going in finding _Knots and All_. She was starting to think that the blasted book didn't exist and that Ollivander was just pulling her leg.

Apparently someone in heaven, who she suspected was Harry or Ron, or maybe even Dumbledore with his liquorish wands, loved her, as the divine blond head of Draco Malfoy entered her hospital room. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

"Apparently the Dark Lord is too busy for his Potions Mistress this morning," he said lightly, "He asked her 'lover'," he drawled the word, "to go and fetch her from the healers and their nasty tasting potions."

"The potions aren't _that_ bad," she told him, grinning.

"They are if you actually take them," he said as he snatched up her bag before she could protest and offered her his free arm, "I know for a fact that you've been pouring yours into the vase of flowers by your bed."

"I wouldn't be so tempted if _you_ didn't give me those flowers Malfoy," she mock glared at him, taking his arm and feeling tingles at the contact.

"It's your own fault that your recovery took twice as long."

"Those potions were completely inadequate. Besides, _you_ still gave me those flowers, and I still blame _you_ for putting the temptation in front of me." He snorted.

"How is that fair?"

"It's not," she laughed as they came to the elevator, "But I'm blaming you anyway."

"Thanks, Gryffindork," he rolled his eyes at her and she hit him on the shoulder as they stood inside the elevator.

"Scales for brains." She muttered. He looked at her, raising one eyebrow.

"Carnivore." He retorted.

"Snakes are carnivores too." She said, smugly.

"Ok then, how about man eater?" he grinned. She looked offended for a second, but recovered quickly.

"Snakes eat men too."

"Really? But snakes are just such wonderful creatures." He mused.

"They're abominable, horrible land fish!" she spat, with distaste.

"And lions are evil mangy flea bags with overly large teeth." he stated.

She ended up hitting him again as they reached the ground floor and stepped out of the elevator, still attached. She had to marvel at how far their relationship had come.

There wasn't a day that went by anymore that she didn't thank Merlin that Draco had switched sides. She wished that it could have been under better circumstances, she wished that Narcissa didn't have to die the way she did, however she was glad that she had someone she could rely on none the less. She had to admit that she wouldn't have trusted anyone else.

The moment they entered the crowded hall way, they switched off their friendly banter and went into what they affectionately called, "lusty glance mode." Some days, Hermione really did want to burn Severus into little cinders. Draco removed his arm from hers and wrapped it around her waist, where she placed her hand on top of his. Draco then gave her a heated look which she returned with equal affection. It scared her how acting like this with him came so naturally.

Sure, it helped that he wasn't at all unfortunate looking, but it was just far too easy. Hermione thought that the way he looked at her wasn't just acting some days, especially when they were in the midst of people they knew.

When Avery had come to visit her once while they were eating breakfast together, Draco had felt the sudden need to climb on the bed next to her and feed her the strawberries she had been given by one of the healers. She had played along, giggling very sweetly and enjoying the strawberries with exaggerated 'mmm's.

Avery became furious and marched straight out, but even after he had left, Draco stayed right where he was for the rest of the morning, seeming very comfortable.

She almost jumped when he started nibbling on her neck as they drew nearer to the fireplaces, but held it together, pretending to enjoy it immensely, which again, wasn't all that hard.

They walked straight past the welcome witch, who knew better than to stop them, knowing full well who they were and went straight to one of the fireplaces. Draco grabbed a fist full of floo powder, having finally stopped his ministrations, and shouted clearly "Hogwarts!"

They disappeared and appeared in a fireplace within an instant, Hermione scrutinizing him. He just looked at her sheepishly and she rolled her eyes at him.

"Where did that come from?" She asked him, as one eyebrow rose in amusement, even though she really did want to know.

He looked as though he was on the border of saying something, but seemed to change his mind at the last minute.

"Just playing the part," he said cockily, "Why? Did you enjoy it?"

She glared at him for a moment, realizing his hand was still around her waist and made to step out of the fireplace, when she looked around the room. She slowly closed her eyes and hung her head as she realized that they were inside...

"Hera!" came a voice.

The Headmaster's Office. Hermione cursed softly, and Draco heard, raising his own eyebrow.

They both whipped around to see Avery greet her with enthusiasm. As the pair finally stepped out of the fireplace, he leaned forward slightly and grazed her cheek with his lips before holding her at arm's length and looking at her appraisingly. Draco glared at Avery openly, not wishing to hide his disdain anymore.

"I see St Mungo's has done its job," Avery smiled, still looking down at her.

"_I_ would have done it faster," Hermione rolled her eyes in a typically Hera fashion, "But the idiots thought that I would be so stupid as to mix up my potions for a second time." She spat with disdain.

"Well," Avery laughed, "They can be terribly annoying dear. I hope you will be joining us for dinner tonight. The Dark Lord has decided to hold a feast in honor of your return."

"If the Dark Lord will be attending, I see no reason as to why not," she smiled slightly. It would be the perfect stage to begin her plans for dear Bella.

"Wonderful," he smiled at her. Draco tightened his grip around her waist.

"Well I'm sorry Headmaster," he said, not looking sorry at all, "But Hera and I must be going. She has been instructed to get as much bed rest as possible before teaching or any events that may be draining," his face contorted into a pleasant smirk, "And I intend to see that she does as she is told..._Personally_."

Avery glared at him as the meaning of Draco's comments washed over him. Hermione did her best to play her part, sending a lusty look in the blonde's direction and giving a small chuckle, all the while wondering where this new possessiveness had come from.

She wished that she could perform Legillimancy on him and find out what was running through his mind, maybe get some answers, but unfortunately, her Occlumency had been far more important when she had been planning this little escapade into the mouth of doom.

Draco led her silently out of the room, his hand drooping from her waist to her hip as he began to nibble on her neck again, right after sending one last triumphant glance at Avery as the door closed and the stone gargoyle began to descend. When they were in the clear, Hermione pushed him off of her neck and glared.

"Was that really necessary?" she ground out.

He looked back at her innocently, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

"Of course," he answered her, "Don't you want him to believe that I'm giving you the most wild pleasure of your entire life-"

She snorted, unintentionally cutting him off as they landed on the seventh floor, rolling her eyes at his cockiness. He looked at her with a smirk that confused her, knowing _exactly_ what she was thinking.

"You remember the rumours that used to float around at school?" He asked her.

"Which ones? There were many." She responded, tilting her head.

"The ones about the mysterious Slytherin sex god that was Draco Malfoy."

"I never set store by those things," she rolled her eyes, smiling, "They were just the false musings of adolescent teenage girls who had nothing better to do than gossip about something they could never have."

"You sure about that?" he asked, grinning in a strange way.

"Positive." She answered.

"And what would you say if I said that the rumours were true?" His smug tone gave it all away.

She looked over at him incredulously. She had even heard about a few Gryffindors that had claimed to be with him, but it was just far too ludicrous to even consider being true.

"What can I say?" He shrugged, still smirking with arrogance, "Great sex is just one of the many Malfoy talents."

She rolled her eyes at him again.

"Who did you hear it from?" He asked her, "I suspect one of the Patil twins would have said something-"

"Them and many others," she laughed as they reached her new door and she turned the key in the lock. Once again, she had to notice that her rooms were Slytherin green. She was considering having a sleep over at Malfoy's place just to escape the ghastly colour and feel like a Gryffindor again. He'd be on the couch, of course.

She walked in and sat on her _new_ couch beckoning Draco to sit with her, her smile still on her face. He laughed to and sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and summoning a flask of pumpkin juice for the two of them, seeing as Hermione wasn't allowed to drink at that stage. He poured two glasses.

"So what about you?" He asked her.

"What about me?" She laughed, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Were the rumours true?"

She looked at him completely puzzled.

"What rumours?"

He looked at her, completely flabbergasted.

"You mean...you didn't...hear anything? About you?"

She shook her head instantly, wondering what the hell he was on about. He raised his eyebrows so much, they almost flew off his head.

"Unbelievable," he chuckled, "The rumours flew all over the school. I know for a fact that Potter and Weasley heard about them. I caught Weasley raging at someone in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom once for even suggesting such things and Potter almost attacked some seventh years when we were fifteen for even thinking about it."

"What are you on about Malfoy?" She asked him, suddenly feeling self conscious.

He instantly sobered, even if it was only a little bit, and looked at her with a smile.

"There were several rumours concerning you through out our entire time at Hogwarts dearest," he smirked at her, "The first being that you were adopted by muggles and was really a pureblood-"

"Yeah right," she scoffed.

"Someone thought that you could handle a mountain troll on your own at the age of eleven."

"That's partially true," she muttered. He smirked and looked at her.

"I'll explain later." She said.

"Some idiot said that you had a crush on Neville Longbottom in second year-"

"Oh please, that's gross!" she rolled her eyes,"Neville was like a brother. A very clumsy, silly brother."

"Rumour had it that you went around with Victor Krum in fourth year and continued to date him right up until sixth, behind everyone's back-"

"I ended it after a nasty experience with a broom cupboard after one month thank you very much!" She pouted indignantly, which he secretly found adorable.

"That's not the worst of them," he laughed at her expression,

"In addition to this, Dean Thomas turned around and said that you were having an affair with him in fifth year, until he hooked up with Ginerva Weasley in sixth-"

"WHAT!" She shrieked, looking outraged.

Draco had to cover his ears to stop his ear drums from exploding. She quickly blushed, muttered her apologies and looked away from him. He laughed at her and turned her face back to him with two fingers under her chin.

"Oh yeah," he smiled at her embarrassment, "He thought you were the hottest things since Weasley Wizarding Wizbangs. Never said anything to you though, just said that you were dating secretly and not to tell anyone, that it wasn't to be heard by anyone else, or otherwise you would deny it. Naturally the entire school knew about it by breakfast the next day."

"I can not believe he said that," she groaned, completely mortified.

"It gets worse," he told her, still smiling.

She looked up at him incredulously, almost fearing his answer to her unspoken question. What could possibly be worse than Dean Thomas pretending to make her a dishonest woman?!

"Cormac McLaggen saying he slept with you." he shrugged.

At that, she shot up out of her seat and stared at him, completely horrified, embarrassed and humiliated. The look on her face made his own face split into a grin and then laugh, loudly. He gripped his side in pain from laughing so hard when she began to pummel him with a cushion.

"It's."-_SMACK_-, "Not." -_SMACK_-, "Funny!" She yelled, hitting him particularly hard on the last word.

"Yes it is," he chuckled when she sat down next to him, "The fact that McLaggen had to reduce himself to claiming he had sex with you instead of having actually done it is absolutely hilarious."

"But why me?" She asked him, wondering if she should just ask Voldemort to kill her to escape the humiliation, "Why not someone easier like Pavarti or Lavender? Everyone would believe that..."

"That's the thing," he told her with a sly grin, "The fact that he had wormed his way into the bookish prude with eyes only for the red head was unbelievable. You were a challenge, something that would not only keep him occupied, but also get him brownie points in the castle. And you were, I hate to admit it, rather pretty."

"Thank you very much for that enlightening speech on the male perspective of women," she huffed, her black hair falling over her eyes and glaring at him through it.

He leaned forward slightly, placing his glass on the table and sat with her, looking at her intently again. He moved her hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear with a single finger and smiled softly.

"Not every male," he told her.

He was leaning in again, this time much more obvious than the last. He searched her eyes for a moment, hesitating when he was only a centimetre from her lips, his hand resting on her cheek, his eyes smoldering with something she never thought she would see from him. When she didn't push him away he inched a little bit closer.

"So says the Slytherin sex god himself." Someone drawled out of nowhere.

Both of them jumped when they heard Severus' voice. Draco groaned and rolled his eyes. All she could do was blush as she looked at Severus' portrait. He had a smirk on his face, something she only ever saw when he had said something particularly nasty to Harry. She wondered what it was for.

"I didn't know they moved you up here," she said, trying to smile.

"How long were you listening old man?" Draco asked, clearly not amused this time around.

"Long enough," he glared at Draco then turned to Hermione, "The Dark Lord thought that it may be entertaining to have us in the same room once more. He found our banter quite charming to say the least."

Hermione had to smirk. Perhaps she would ask Severus to help her put on a show? He smirked back, seemingly thinking the exact same thing.

"How did it go with Minerva?" He asked them, "Did you get her to choose a headmaster before she passed?"

It occurred to her that neither Malfoy, nor Severus knew of her choice of headmaster. She wondered briefly on whether she should tell them, but she thought the bickering and lectures would be far too draining at the moment.

"Yes," she smiled at him, "She chose a headmaster."

"I am assuming that it was you?" Severus inquired, pretending to look un-interested.

"No," she told him simply, "It wasn't."

For the first time since she had known him, Severus looked perplexed.

"Then who did you choose?"

She just smiled secretively and didn't answer him, walking into her kitchen to fix a snack. Draco looked a little confused as well, but knew not to pry. If she was going to tell him, she would have by now, and he trusted her judgement. Who ever she had chosen wouldn't be a foolish choice. He then stood and joined her in the kitchen.

"I should probably be going," he told her quietly, leaning on the counter in front of her, "I have a few letters to answer. I'll see you at the feast though."

"Alright," she nodded, and he began to walk away, but she stopped him, "Malfoy, what ever I do tonight, no matter how unorthodox it is, no matter how angry your Aunt gets...don't interfere."

He looked at her, slightly confused and rather worried.

"What are you planning?" He asked her slowly.

"Just go with it," she told him, a slight smile on her face.

He bit his bottom lip out of nervousness, knowing that what ever was going through her head would probably be the most dangerous, ludicrous, completely idiotic idea she had ever had...and it would more than likely work. He nodded and walked swiftly out of the room. Hermione smiled fully and returned to making her snack. Severus eyed her curiously.

"What do you have planned for dear Bella?" He asked her.

She smirked at him.

"It's a secret."

"Surely you would be able to divulge it to me." He suggested.

"Ah but you see dear Severus," she smiled at his grimace for the dear Severus, "If I divulged it to you, it wouldn't be a secret."

"You're more Slytherin than Gryffindor," he commented and she smiled sadly.

"I have to be."

Once she had finished her sandwich, she went back to the couch and looked at Severus with interest.

"So what did I miss over the last few weeks?"

"Besides Bella having the loudest and most childish tantrum in all of Hogwarts history, over moving?" He asked her, smirking evilly.

"Yes, besides that," she laughed.

"Avery got his head caught on fire," he told her and she laughed, telling him she already knew.

"France was conquered again. The resistance is officially dead."

Her face fell, but he continued.

"Rosier has been appointed the Australian Minister for magic-"

"I feel sorry for Australia-" she mused.

"Nagini is dead-"

"That I already know," she interrupted, smiling. He looked at her quizzically, but she just winked at him before he continued.

"The Dark Lord has a new python Bella gave him. He named it Pravus just yesterday."

_Latin for evil,_ she thought as she gazed at Severus, _how appropriate_.

"That part I missed," she told him after a bit of thought, "Why did she give him another snake?"

"Because he was originally intended to be a companion for Nagini," he told her, not really caring about snake relations.

But Hermione became deep in thought. He had another snake... Another potential horcrux. But surely Voldemort couldn't make anymore. He had ripped his soul apart, destroying it almost completely. How could he possibly do it again? The pain would be excruciating, not even _he_ would be able to live through it. Sure, now he was completely mortal, but mortal was a hell of a lot better than already dead.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the _wooshing_ sound of her fireplace. She turned to look at it, only to find Draco staring at her once more, though he was different. He no longer looked care free or even happy to see her. His expression was cold, his skin was paler than usual and his eyes raged a cold grey with anger equivalent to a storm. She stood from the couch and walked towards him.

"What's the matter?" She asked him concernedly.

He didn't say anything and simply thrust a letter into her hand. Her heart soared as she looked at the signature at the bottom. Lucius was alive! She looked up at him and smiled, but it faltered when she saw that he wasn't smiling.

"Malfoy," she said, trying to sound happy and not frightened by his expression, "This is good news, why are you upset?"

"He went and saw you, didn't he?" He asked her coldly.

"Yes," she said instantly, "Why is that a problem?"

He sucked in a deep breath to calm himself down, but it only worked slightly. She had no idea why he was so angry.

"He went to see you, and not me," he finally said, "And on top of that, after every moment that I was in that hospital with you, you don't tell me."

She closed her eyes slowly in disappointment with herself. There were a lot of things that she should have told him, or even asked about while she had been there, but she had been so happy when ever he showed up that she didn't even think about saving the world anymore. She didn't ask what was going on, she didn't tell him that it was her who was sending the letters; and she didn't tell him that his own father had killed Nagini.

"Why?" He suddenly asked her.

"Why what?" she asked back, her eyes snapping open.

"Why did he go to see you?" His eyes were blazing now, he was so angry.

"He-he," she stuttered, "He had killed Nagini," he looked at her wide eyed, "He thought he was dying, so he came to me and asked me to send it off with his regards...out of revenge. I sent him to the order, telling him that using your name would be enough to get him in the door. Apparently it was."

"What else haven't you told me?" He yelled at her, as he began to pace, the letter scrunched up in his hands, "We're supposed to be partners, equals! And here you are, keeping things from me concerning my own father! How does that work Granger?"

She flinched, so used to him calling her by her first name now that when he called her Granger, it sounded foreign and unknown. Icy. Uncaring.

"It doesn't," she admitted quietly, "It's just that every time I saw you there...I was so drained, so tired...I didn't need a business partner or an ally," she sighed quietly, "I needed a friend. The moment I mentioned this or anything else, you would become just business partner again, just another person I was working with. I couldn't have an office relationship with you Malfoy, not while I was in there!"

He was slightly taken aback by what she had said. He had never once imagined himself as her friend, even though he would gladly take what he could get, but it didn't help cool his anger.

"Friends," he hissed at her, "Don't lie to one another."

"I didn't lie!" She said indignantly.

"No," he growled, "You kept something from me, and that's just as bad!"

"Well what's so bad about this?" She asked him, "Why are you so angry? And don't tell me it's because I kept this from you, because it's more than that!"

He looked at her, breathing heavily, ready to launch an attack at any moment, but amongst the anger, she saw fear. He was _afraid_ to tell her about what had happened to his mother, he was _afraid_ to tell her why he was really angry. She walked up to him and placed both her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look down at her, knowing that he was trying to resist the urge to shove her away.

"I know about your mother," she whispered. He tried to pull away but she held him firmly, "I know that your father ran and that you stayed behind and watched while her killer gave orders for your father's death. I understand that you are angry with him, and with me, but believe me when I tell you that your anger is misplaced."

He harshly pulled her hands off his face, stepping away from her immediately when she finished and glared at her with a vengeance. The fire in his eyes was both alluring and frightening as he looked at her. She didn't know whether to draw closer or to back away in fright.

"You think you understand?" He roared at her, "That man brought me to this! _He_ chose this life! It should be _him_ here, not me! _He_ should suffer! _He_ should have died! Not her! Not ever!"

He was breathing heavily again, his fists clenching as he stood there. It was clear that he had been holding onto it just as long as Hermione had been holding onto hers, the only difference being that she had put hers to good use. His had festered and bubbled and now that his father had walked back into his life, it was about to boil over into an explosive mess.

"Malf-," she said, taking a step forward carefully.

"Don't call me that." He hissed. She flinched.

"You and your father have both suffered for his mistakes, he told me himself-"

"And since when do you believe anything a Slytherin decides to tell you?" He asked her in a hiss, "He lied to you, he never once felt sorry for her death-"

"You only want to believe that because you feel he was responsible for it," she cut him off quickly, "And I believe you don't I? You're a Slytherin-"

"That's different," he hissed.

"How?" She challenged, "How are you any different from him?"

"I didn't run!" He bellowed.

She stood motionless, unable to think of a response.

"I didn't run away and leave my son to deal with the maniac who killed his mother!" He continued, his voice now low and deathly cold, "I didn't leave him to die, I tried to find him for years and not once did he show me that he was alive! Not once did he try to find me! He never tried to take me with him, never tried to save me! Why THE HELL should I care that he's alive now?!" he hissed.

A single tear of pain leaked from his angry eyes and all she could do was watch as he backed away into the fireplace, giving her one last look of hate before being engulfed in green flame. She stared down at the letter in her hand, wondering what had just happened, wondering what she had just lost.


	15. Malfoy the Hypocrite

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**I know it's been forever since I've posted but I hope this makes up for it. You know how it is with school and damn homework and things like that, so please don't kill me *cringes* Anyway, I hope you like it and please review!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of this wonderful magical world, even though I would love to. I bow my head to J.K and her wonderful, magical mind.**

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Chapter fifteen: Malfoy the Hypocrite

Hermione made her way from her rooms at half past seven in the evening. She was clad in dark green, almost black dress robes, with one sleeve on her right shoulder and a high split up her left leg. She hoped that this would get Bellatrix's attention at the very least. She tried desperately to keep her mind away from Malfoy as much as possible, still slightly distressed by his abrupt departure. She didn't at all know why she had saved Lucius, why she had now damned herself to be alone.

She walked the halls with the confidence of a conquering hero, when all she wanted to do was scream and run. She had made it this far alone, without anyone's help at all, so why should it be so hard for her now? She could live without Malfoy, no problems...all she had to do now was figure out a way to erase his memory of her existence without getting close enough for him to hex her.

_Yeah right,_ she thought to herself, _there's no way in hell that that's going to happen. He was even better at dueling than Harry at school. He would spot you a mile away._

"Why do I always have to be right," she huffed angrily, "Just once I'd like a little hope and my stupid brain gets in the way!"

She stopped before she entered the Great Hall and calmed herself down, as nervousness and the feeling of impending doom set in. She checked her hair; made sure her make up was perfect and finally pushed the doors forward. What she saw surprised her. It wasn't like the hall normally would be if there was a feast. There were no long tables, no staff table and there was the school orchestra at the back, playing a soft waltz as couples danced by. The room was decorated in every shade of green and silver imaginable and Hermione couldn't help but stare at the monster of a chandelier that hung above her head.

"Hera!" The fond voice of the headmaster greeted her, noticing that she was in shock, "Do you like it? It was my idea to change the feast into a ball. I thought it would be more fitting."

"Yes," she said quietly, drifting away from him, "It's wonderful."

Without even knowing it, her feet were carrying her away from him as she stared in awe at the room. She thought the colours could do with a change; however she had to admit that it was magnificent. A cold hand on the small of her back pulled her out of her reverie as she came to stare at the cool crimson eyes of Lord Voldemort.

"It's far too much for a woman of your class," he said to her, showing no expression on his face.

Hermione saw Bellatrix Lestrange on the other side of the room, clearly listening in with a secret televising charm in their direction.

"Not while you are here My Lord," she smiled, leaning into him a bit. She thought that he may recoil or torture her for coming so close, however, he simply smirked down at her, wrapping an arm around her waist and led her to sit at a table nearby. Perhaps he was in a better mood than she was?

"You're lying, Hera," he said quietly with a smirk, "Not even _my_ presence could make this enjoyable."

She gave a soft tinkle of laughter.

"You are right My Lord," she smiled, "Avery really has gone to lengths to try and embarrass me."

"Shall I rid us of him?" He asked her with a smile, though something in his tone told her that he wasn't joking in the slightest.

"But then who would run the school?" She asked innocently.

She saw Bella heave her chest in pride out of the corner of her eye and thought that if _she_ ran the school, it would turn into a funeral home, considering all the students that would be dead with in the first ten minutes.

"I would have-" The Dark Lord began, but was once more interrupted by a half tanked Avery.

"Hera! Darling!" He gave her a kiss on the cheek, which she dutifully shrunk away from, seeing as it was much too close to her mouth, "Come for a dance with me!"

"We are busy at the moment Avery," the Dark Lord glared, "Go and find Bella, I'm sure _she_ would be more than willing to satisfy your every whim."

Hermione smirked as Bella's glass smashed in the palm of her hand. Avery raised his eyebrows as if to say that he hadn't thought of that and Hermione simply rolled her eyes. The Dark Lord stayed impassive as he staggered away in Bella's direction.

"Now what was it you were saying My Lord before we were so rudely interrupted?" She asked him softly, a very un-Hera-like smile on her face.

He simply stared at her for the briefest of moments, and seemed to change his mind on what ever it was he wished to say.

"It is unimportant," he declared, "We are celebrating your return. Business has no place here. Come, there are some people that you must meet."

He stood from his seat and walked to her side of the table, offering her his arm, which she took without question. The feel of his skin made her internally cringe, its icy touch and sickly colour assaulting her senses relentlessly. He lead her to the back of the room where several finely dressed men stood, some handsome, some abhorrently ugly. Some looked as though they had just gotten out of school, while others looked like some of the first death eaters.

She looked at the Dark Lord questioningly.

"I decided that this would also be your coming out party," he told her softly, "Your initiation into my inner circle will commence after the Christmas break, so it would be prudent to introduce you properly to your peers."

She almost shuddered at the thought. Taking the dark mark was going to be that much harder now that she was alone. Voldemort pulled her to a stop by the group, who all bowed to him and gave a stiff nod to her. After a little strained conversation and the Dark Lord receiving a few updates on projects that Hermione knew nothing about, they left and began to approach another little group of dark figures, hiding in a corner.

"You must forgive them Hera," he said quietly, "There aren't many female Death Eaters, as you've seen. Bella is only one of three."

"Who are the other two?" She asked just as quietly.

"Miss Tamora Brimstone," he replied, "And Miss Luna Lovegood."

Hermione couldn't help but freeze. The Dark Lord couldn't help but notice.

"Something wrong?" He asked her, skepticism dripping from his words.

It took her only seconds to regain herself and smile at him.

"No, not at all My Lord," she told him, "I just lost my balance on these blasted heels. I swore I would never wear them again, but I didn't have anything else that would go with this dress."

He seemed only slightly satisfied by her explanation, but let it drop, much to Hermione's relief. She allowed him to lead her further over to the group and didn't speak anymore on the subject. Only one thought entered her mind as she allowed him to walk her into the snake pit.

Draco was a bloody hypocrite.

How dare he lecture her for with holding information when he so clearly chose not to tell her that Luna, of all people, was a Death Eater! It was insane, it was ridiculous! It was a _crucial_ piece of information and he didn't even _think_ to mention it?! Had he gone mental?! But amongst the feelings of shock and disdain for Malfoy came a horrible feeling of disgust for Luna. She had fought beside her during the final battle, in the Department of Mysteries. How could she do this to all those that she cared about? To those that cared for _her_! What about her father? The Order? Did they suddenly mean nothing now? So many questions for one of the people she missed the most, so many questions for someone she loved who was suddenly her greatest enemy. It wasn't fair that she had had to miss out on so much so that she could gain so little.

Her sudden anger at Draco rose once more as she thought of all that she had sacrificed for him by telling him of her mission, and he hadn't even thought to tell her of this. She suddenly stopped completely and almost doubled over in pain. The Dark Lord looked at her with concern, as did the Death Eaters that were waiting for them to approach.

"My Lord," she gasped, "Please forgive me. My potions are wearing off too quickly..."

"You should have made them yourself," he scolded.

"It would have landed me in the hospital the moment I was out," she told him, clutching onto him as much as she knew he would allow, "The mixture of chemicals from the potions they fed me, however inadequate, would have been disastrous with my own. Curse Aurellius!"

She thought she heard him chuckle and used his good mood to her advantage, allowing him to pick her up properly and lead her over to a chair.

"Sit," he ordered softly, "I will send someone up to get your potions."

"Perhaps she should retire for the night My Lord," some random Death Eater spoke from behind him, "She looks as though she may collapse."

He gazed at her again, seeming to reach the same assessment as he almost glared at her. She feared for only moments that he had some how broken through her walls and discovered the truth, when he suddenly smirked at her, and reached out a hand to touch her hair. She leaned into it, feigning tiredness as she went.

"Malfoy will no longer stay in your room on week nights," he ordered her, "It is apparent that you didn't get as much sleep as you should have."

Knowing what he was on about, she smiled shyly and forced a blush to coat her cheeks. How this acting had become so easy, she would never know.

"Go to bed," he ordered her again, "I will see you tomorrow about your first assignment."

Internally, she cringed. Externally, she was the epitome of calm and gratitude. She lifted herself as gracefully from her seat as she could and walked out to the entrance hall. When she was out of sight, she removed her high heels and ran to the seventh floor as fast as she could, anger blinding her as she finally reached Draco's door. She wrenched it open with a deafening crash and watch as he scrambled off of the couch in fright, drawing his wand and then relaxing, scowling when he saw her.

"What do you want?" He asked her in disdain.

"You bastard," she whispered, "You foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach!"

"I think that insult went out of fashion in third year Granger," he sneered, rolling his eyes.

"Ok," she said sweetly with dripping sarcasm, "How about _hypocrite_? Would that suit you any better?"

He looked at her in anger and confusion.

"What the hell-"

"Luna Lovegood!" She screamed at him and he paled, "Does that name ring any bells?!"

He closed his eyes and let out a ragged breath before answering her.

"That's different," he whispered.

"HOW?!" She roared at him.

"I was trying to save you some hurt!" He yelled back, "Trying to save you from the fact that she betrayed us all! I know how close you were with her-"

"Which makes it that much worse!" She seethed, "Not only did I have to find out from the Dark Lord himself! But I now have another person to worry about recognizing me! You had no right to keep this from me-"

"And keeping my father from me was any better?!"

"That was a mistake," she sneered, "I acknowledge that, I apologized for that, yet you won't even breathe a _word_ about Luna!"

"I was trying to-"

"It doesn't matter _what_ you were trying to do!" She screamed at him, "I compromised _everything_ by telling you who I was, by letting you in on my plans! And you keep this kind of information from me?!"

It seemed he finally knew where she was coming from. Where as he felt betrayed beyond recognition, she felt scared that she had made a huge mistake in trusting him, and if he really thought about it...he couldn't blame her. His father wasn't relevant to the mission, except for the fact that he had destroyed a horcrux. Luna was a gaping hole in their plan. If he had just swallowed his fears and anger and told her sooner, then maybe they could have found a solution. But she had lost all faith in him now.

"Stay away from me," she whispered dangerously, "Forget that I exist, forget everything."

"Hermione-"

"Don't call me that!" She snarled at him, "Don't ever come near me again!"

"What about the Dark Lord," he said helplessly, "He'll know-"

"I'll slay that dragon when it decides to eat me," she said coldly, turning around and exiting the room before he could react, leaving him wondering what had just happened and what he had just lost.


	16. One Final Push

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**It's a miracle isn't it? I'm actually posting! Lol, I promise that updates will come a little more swiftly now that I've gotten my inspiration back and as a solemn apology for taking so long, I've decided to speed things along a bit and give you some LEMONS...next chapter. Until then I hope you can hold on.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of this magical world.**

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Chapter Sixteen: One final push

Days passed by and Hermione and Malfoy never spoke to each other. At dinner, they would sit on opposite ends of the staff table, while with their classes in the library they would stay in opposite sections and when they met in the hallways, they would move to opposite sides of the stone walls.

Every time he opened his mouth to form the words, to form any words, he froze. It was like someone had cast a silencing spell on him every time he tried to ask her to pass the salt or ask what she was reading. He didn't know what to say, how to say it, when to say it. So he said nothing. And she said nothing, and it continued.

And Malfoy hated it.

He struggled with himself every day for not speaking to her. He could see that she was suffering with every hour that she was on her own. Her eyes now bore heavy dark circles, her hair was becoming greasier by the day and due to her apparent lack of appetite, she had become a sorry sack of bones. He had always known that she was dying on the inside, but now the outside was beginning to show. He sat inside his rooms contemplating it all with a grim look on his face.

_So what if she didn't tell you about your father, she was probably going to do it when they won._

And how do you know that? How can you trust her when she lied to me?

_Technically, she didn't lie._

No, she just kept vital information from me.

_What's vital about it? She was right; it has nothing to do with the mission._

It had everything to do with me though. We are-**were**, supposed to be partners.

_It's not like keeping Lovegood a secret was partner-like was it?_

Aren't you supposed to be my voice of reason or something?

_I __**am **__your voice of reason._

"Why do I always have to be right?" He suddenly asked himself allowed, taking a large gulp of fire whiskey.

Hermione was strong, she always had been. You had to be if you were going to hang around with accident prone weasels and danger magnet potty heads. But Draco had been right the first time. She couldn't do this on her own. And now that Potter and Weasley had broken her, her strength was beginning to fade. She was wasting away to the shadow of a memory she had once been for him…and there was nothing he could do now to stop it.

_You could always tell her the truth_

The truth about what?

_About how you slipped her and Zabini a love potion in third year. No you idiot! About how you feel._

That would end badly.

_How do you know that?_

If she hits me for calling her a mudblood, what the hell do you think she's going to do for saying that I like her?

_Maybe she-_

"Oh that's just ridiculous Malfoy and you know it," he rolled his eyes at himself.

"You know," a voice suddenly came from behind him, "Talking to one's self is the first sign of madness."

Draco jumped out of his chair, his fire whiskey now flying out of his hand and smashing on the floor. He couldn't believe his eyes. He had imagined this moment for years, but he had never expected it to come so soon.

"How did you get in here undetected?" He asked as he moved away from his chair over to the fireplace, "Not even Granger-"

"If Granger had declared herself to the Order of the Phoenix, then she would know that they have discovered various ways over the years to stay anonymous while within the castle walls. You yourself haven't spoken to them in a while."

Draco stared at his father for some time before he was able to look away. It had been ten years since he had seen him, ten years since he had heard his voice. The one thing that bothered him was what he wanted now.

"Why are you here?" He asked suddenly, turning cold.

Lucius' eyes darkened with sadness at his son's demeanor. He couldn't pretend that he didn't expect it, nor deserve it; after all, Lucius had left his only child to the mercy of the Dark Lord. He shouldn't expect warmth and he had no right in wanting it.

Really, what had he expected? To be welcomed with open arms? For Draco to act as if nothing had happened? With a sigh, Lucius looked at his son, at Draco.

"I know you probably don't want to see me, let alone talk to me, but may I sit?" he asked cautiously. Draco stood for awhile, before he gave a curt nod and gestured at the other chair. Lucius slowly sat as he watched Draco wave his wand at the smashed glass on the floor and retrieve two new ones. He looked at Lucius, raising an eyebrow in questioning. Lucius nodded in response and a glass filled with fire whiskey floated over to him.

Draco sat down cautiously, staring blankly at his father with cold, weary eyes. It made the elder Malfoy sad to see that his own son was so unsure, so careful around him, so guarded.

"Why are you here?" Draco asked him, his voice just as cold as his looks.

"How have you been?" Lucius ignored the question, blatantly.

"Just fucking dandy, all rainbows and sun flowers. Why are you here?"

"How's Granger?"

"Wouldn't know." He paused as a pained look crossed his face, before his cold mask returned. "Why are you here?"

"Has Bella keeled over yet?"

"No, and for the last time, why are you here?"

Lucius looked up at him with old eyes once more.

"To give you the closure that you need," he said quietly, "Granger was right. What you need more than anything is a father, but you really want is a different story. I'm here to let you yell, scream, hex, curse or even murder me if you want. My life is over. I'm purely here for you now."

Draco looked at him in shock, before narrowing his eyes into hard, grey slits.

"You know what?" Draco spat at him, "I have no reason what so ever to believe you."

Lucius had to close his eyes as the pain of his words hit him hard. Draco sat there and stared at him in disgust.

"And I certainly don't need you," he said, low and cold.

Draco stood from his chair and strode over to his liquor cabinet, getting a fresh glass of fire whiskey, gulping it down with a shaking hand. Lucius got out of his chair, standing in front of it and turning to look at Draco.

"Regardless of whether you need me or not I am still your father-"

"No you're not," Draco hissed at him, "My father wouldn't have run like you did. My father was brave, he **protected** his family. He wouldn't have left me to take his place in this pathetic, twisted excuse of a life! He would have taken me with him! My father died all those years ago with my mother, like the selfish bastard he turned out to truly be."

Lucius recoiled as though he had been cursed, but looked at his son with more regret, more remorse than he could ever look upon anyone else. Out of all the countless victims that Lucius had created, Draco was the only one he couldn't look in the eye without feeling like he had been stabbed in the chest. His son's pain was his pain now too.

"There isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret the decisions I made. When it came to you and Narcissa-"

"Don't you _dare_ say her name!" He roared at his father, his anger finally unleashed, "You have no right to speak of her! None! She was ten times the person you will ever be! She loved you and you let her die while you ran like a scared child afterwards, leaving me! _Me_! Your only son to pick up the pieces and take your punishment! If she were alive she would never speak to you again!"

"No," he whispered sadly, "She wouldn't."

"You are nothing but a coward," Draco spat at him, "A coward and a liar and a shell of the man you used to be!"

Lucius took a deep breath, closing his eyes, and tried to remain open to his son. He did his best not to draw up his defenses and become the cold, detached man he had trained himself to be. If he was going to earn his forgiveness, he couldn't afford to be callus or cold anymore. He needed to show his emotions, show Draco that he was capable of feeling.

"I don't blame you," Lucius said, trying not to shake-his nerves were shot, and his emotions were in turmoil, "I've done so much wrong by you that I'm surprised you haven't cursed me yet."

"I'm still considering it." Draco replied, and Lucius knew he was serious.

"Draco..." he almost pleaded as he looked at him.

"I know I've left you in the past, but I want to try and make this right."

Draco sneered at his father, a look that Lucius had always done so well.

"I still don't believe you." Lucius tried desperately to think of some way to fix this.

"Draco you are my flesh and blood-" Draco growled at him, hate and anger filling his eyes.

"If you say that one more time I will curse you so badly that you will **wish** you were dead."

"I know that there is no possible way that I could make this up to you," he said slowly, "What I've done...The pain of it will rip at us both until the day we die. But there are things I _can_ do."

Draco snorted.

"Like what?"

"Like be an informant for the Order," Lucius told him, "I'll find resources in the Manor library. I will do anything that helps you and Granger bring the Dark Lord down."

Lucius reached inside his robes and pulled out a large book. It was dusty, covered in moth damage, the leather was pealing and that binding was almost disintegrated. But it wasn't the dilapidated state that caught Draco's eye.

"Merlin's balls," he muttered.

***

Hermione sat on her bed frozen by fear. Her knees were hunched up to her chest, her eyes were wide and her heart was racing to the point of failure. How could he possibly have asked this of her? And so soon! Couldn't he have given her a different assignment, you know, just to warm up with? Anything! Anything other than this!

"Even I have to admit Granger," Severus said from his portrait, wearing the same frightened, shocked expression as she, "Not even I saw this one coming."

"He's asking the impossible," She whispered, "I can't do _this_! What the hell is he thinking?!"

"He's thinking that you can _do_ the impossible," Severus answered her, "And he's quite mistaken. There is no way in hell that you could do this. Not even _I_ could do this."

She got up and walked over to her liquor cabinet and poured herself a glass.

"How long do you think I can stall it?"

"I would give it until February until he starts asking questions. I would advise you not to send anymore letters either."

"I've run out of things to send with them. It wouldn't have the same effect if I just sent a letter," she smirked taking an even larger gulp of fire whiskey than before. She would have to stop drinking so often or otherwise she would end up like Severus.

She took another sip and groaned.

"Merlin Severus, what am I going to do?"

"Don't look at me, I'm just a painting. The only one who can actually help you, you're ignoring."

"That's not fair, he's ignoring me too."

"How many times do I have to say it Granger," he groaned, "Life isn't fair! Suck it up, stop being a bigger dunderhead than Longbottom ever could be and tell the idiot how you feel about him."

She suddenly spat her fire whiskey all over her carpet.

"What?!"

Severus just had to roll his eyes at that.

"You know, for the smartest witch of your age, you can be quite dense," he sneered, "How many times have you almost kissed him?"

"Just twice," she said indignantly, "And it was nothing. We were just..."

"Caught up in the moment?" He suggested with a snort, "You are so bloody blind."

"Blind to what exactly?" She asked, her temper flaring.

"Malfoy has feelings for you, you completely insufferable idiot!" He screamed at her, almost tearing his hair out.

"You've been sitting in the lead based paints for so long that you've gone senile," she sneered at him, "Malfoy does not like me like that. He hated me-"

"When you were children. And guess what Granger. He's a _man_ now. He gets the urge to jump a woman's bones every now and then."

"Oh Merlin Severus, please stop talking," she covered up her ears and screwed her face up in disgust. She did not need to have _that_ talk with Severus Snape.

"Not until you bloody well listen!" He roared. Clearly, she had agitated him, but she had had enough talk of Malfoy.

"Lalalala! I can't hear you!" Hermione sang, shoving her fingers into her ears.

"Will you GROW UP! You're acting like that petulant; know it all child who walked into my class with her nose stuck in _Hogwarts: a History_. Guess what Granger, you don't know it all, so shut up and listen!" he yelled at her.

She froze, mid-sing and stared at him. His eyes narrowed as he looked at her.

"Now that I have your attention..."

***

"Where did you get that?" Draco asked him warily, "We've been searching for that thing forever. How the hell did you find it?"

"Apparently Dumbledore and Ollivander were closer than I originally thought," Lucius told him with the first signs of a smile since he had walked in the room, "Only those without the intent to use the book, whether for good or for bad, are able to find it."

"How did you even know about it?" Draco asked him skeptically.

"Granger's mind is unprotected when she as nightmares," he said quietly, "When you next see her, could you please give her my apologies for my sneak peek."

Draco's face contorted into pain again as he sat back down in his chair. His anger had dissipated long ago. Now all he was left with was exhaustion. Lucius picked up on it instantly. He always used to look like that when he had had a fight with his mother. Only a woman could put that look on his face.

"You will be seeing Granger again, will you not?" He asked warily, careful not to push the wrong buttons again.

"Only in passing," he answered gravely.

Lucius closed his eyes out of frustration and breathed deeply.

"My letter made things between the two of you change, didn't it?" He asked.

"To the point where she'll no longer speak to me," Draco nodded, "Why no one has asked us any questions is beyond me. Maybe the Dark Lord has ordered them not to say a word about it or something. Maybe he thinks she's better off without me, I don't know. The point is that she can't do this on her own, and I stuffed it up for her by going off my nut."

Lucius scrutinized his son for the briefest of moments and then offered him a kind smile.

"You feel for her," he said, "Deeply."

Draco looked up at him and almost smiled himself...almost.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to a Malfoy."

Draco sighed; too tired to argue with him that he didn't consider himself a Malfoy anymore. He just sipped his whiskey and kept his thoughts to himself.

"How long?" Lucius brought him back to reality with his soft words.

"Hmm?"

"How long have you..."

"Well... a while," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck out of embarrassment.

"Does she know?" He asked his voice still soft, almost loving.

"No," he sighed, his eyes dipping back to his drink, "And she's not going to either."

"Why not?"

"She's not even speaking to me," he glared at his father, "I doubt the revelation that I have feelings for her would change that."

"If there was one thing I learned over the years Draco," Lucius smirked, "It was never to underestimate a woman's ability to have feelings and be unaware of them."

Draco looked at his father quizzically but said nothing. He watched his father smirk at him with more confusion than he had ever felt in his life,

"She feels for you too," Lucius told him, "She's either choosing to ignore it or is naïve of it completely. Personally, I'm leaning towards the latter. She never seemed like someone who would be ignorant of anything."

"How do you know this?" Draco looked at him strangely, "I've spent months with her and I haven't picked up on a single hint."

"Granger is a lot like Nar- your mother was when she and I first met," he told him lightly, "She doesn't give off hints like every other woman. She sits back and waits until she's certain of your affection and once she knows for sure that you aren't about to leave, she'll burry herself in your life. If you manage to win her back, I guarantee that she will do anything to protect your heart."

"I never had her," Draco told him bitterly, "How can I win her back if I never had her?"

"So the two of you never..."

"Father!"

"Sorry, sorry," he held up his hands in surrender, "I just remember what you were like in school, that's all. And no woman can resist the charm of a Malfoy."

"Apparently this one can," Draco rolled his eyes, "You have no idea how much I've been pouring on the charm, and she _still_ either doesn't get it or isn't interested."

"Oh she's interested," Lucius smiled again, "You just have to give her one final push."

_One final push..._

***

The sun rose steadily on Christmas morning but it did nothing to abate the sinking feeling of doom Hermione felt in the pit of her stomach. She hadn't slept properly in months, purposely keeping herself awake to avoid the nightmares of Harry and Ron that plagued her through out the midnight darkness. It was too much; she just couldn't do it anymore. Seeing their faces over and over again in such states made her cringe in fear. She still had no meaning behind them and these dreams, these omens of sorts, were making her go insane.

She picked up her glass of eggnog with a shaky hand and looked down at it with weary eyes. She sipped quietly, waiting for either Severus or the Dark Lord to wake up and give her either a lecture or some instructions for the day.

She shuddered as she remembered what Severus had told her the night before. She guessed that she had known on some level that Malfoy had feelings for her, but she never fathomed, even for the slightest of moments, that she might have feelings for him in return. It was like a never ending merry go round. She was riding one of the horses in the middle and she couldn't grasp what was going on around her until she stopped and really thought about it.

She distantly wondered over to the foot of her bed where her presents had been deposited by a nameless house elf sometime in the night. She wasn't really in the mood for opening presents, even though there were many, but it would give her something to do until someone woke up.

She sat down on the floor and picked up the nearest gift. With a sigh of annoyance she threw it to the side, not even bothering to open it when she saw the card from Avery. It would more than likely be some piece of expensive jewelry or apparation passes to Paris or something. She really didn't want to know.

She picked up the next few, noticing with a jolt of surprise that they were from students. She had done her best to be horrible to them and highly demanding of their work, but they apparently preferred her to Avery and were praying that she wouldn't get hurt again.

The next one came from Bellatrix which she threw in the fire and watched as the flames turned bright blue. She smirked. The mad woman was going to have to do better than a cursed object if she wanted to kill her. And boy did she want to kill her. Ever since their first meeting, or rather _glance_, at her welcome home ball Bella had been glaring at her and throwing things when no one was looking and doing her best to direct stray curses in her direction. Hermione couldn't help but think that things were going _wonderfully_ in that department.

She then looked down at a small box that was sitting beside her bed and picked it up. There was a note attached.

_Merry Christmas Hera_

_L.V_

Hermione looked at the note curiously and then turned back to the box. She had never expected to get a gift from Voldemort and she was sure that no one else would. Was it some kind of trick? Or was he just honoring her with his grace and mercy? She scoffed and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful bracelet. It was made of three white gold snakes, intertwining and tangling with one another, their emerald scales only just grazing her skin, their diamond eyes piercing her own. It was gorgeous and it was expensive, but most of all, it could be very useful.

Hermione's eyes fell to her last gift. It had been hastily wrapped, probably the night before, in wrapping paper that looked like it had been designed for a first year. The edges were slightly torn and the letter that had been written with it was covered in ink smudges. It had been written over so many times that imprints of the letters before it had been left on the parchment.

_Hermione_

_I know that you don't ever want to see me again, but I can only hope that you won't let your feelings hinder your good judgment just as I have hindered mine. Take my gift and use it to the best of your ability._

_Merry Christmas._

_D.M_

Hermione then realized that there was an imprint of a small 'x' on the paper, next to his name. Then, she saw the package that had burst open when she had dropped it on the floor.

There, sitting inside the old tattered wrapping paper was _Knots and All._


	17. Interlude: Where Everything Changes

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**I know I promised to update sooner and tbh I don't know how long it's taken me to post this, so I've gone and made it extra long, just for you! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it and please leave reviews to let me know what you think. Even though I don't get a lot of time to reply, your input is always appreciated and I always try to straighten things out if you get confused.**

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Chapter Seventeen: Where Everything Changes

She read over it again and again, letting it sink into her mind what she was seeing. Her eyes would bounce from the letter to the book and back again at a rapid pace. She breathed in slow and deep and yet it felt shallow and fast, hollow, bereft of feeling as she gazed at her new gift. What would she do about it? He was right, she couldn't let her...what ever it was she felt for him, hinder her good judgment. No matter what happened, she would take the book and use it as she was meant to. She had spent too long searching for the damn thing, she wasn't about to burn it simply because it was sent by someone she…didn't know how she felt about.

But what was she going to do about Malfoy? She gazed at Severus' sleeping form for a few moments and then looked away. She had to thank him for this. He just helped save the world after all. What she didn't know was whether she would be able to get up the courage to do it. It would be hard speaking to him again as an equal and not as an enemy. Then again what he had just done would have been ten times harder. He made the first move. Maybe there was hope for their partnership to reignite?

"Maybe," she whispered.

"Maybe what?"

She turned from her spot on the floor to see the Dark Lord standing before her in all his evil glory. She gave him a soft smile and stood, instantly putting up her guards and shoving the letter and book in her knicker drawer

"I was just thinking of ways to achieve the task you've given me my Lord," she told him softly, "Healing a soul is not easy."

"Breaking it is just as hard," he told her.

"Hopefully you will entrust your pieces to more reliable people this time my Lord," she smiled at him.

He smirked back at her, his gleaming red eyes trying to catch hers for a glimpse inside her head but she wouldn't let him. Normally she would, but she didn't trust her skills that morning at all.

"Did you receive my gift?" He asked her.

"Yes I did," she smiled, "It's very beautiful. It must have cost you a small fortune…or a small army."

"One of the two," he told her with a fake yawn, "I care not to remember. Will you be wearing it?"

"As often as I can find robes to go with it my Lord," she told him. In truth she probably wouldn't have trouble finding robes to go with the jewellery. She was a witch after all. The Dark Lord smirked at her again and walked to her closet.

"There will be a breakfast feast held this morning," he told her, "Think of it as another introductorily orientated ceremony for your peers Hera. They didn't see you all that much the last time."

"So the others will be there again?" She asked evasively as she went to pile the rest of her presents away.

"All of them this time," he told her, "I have told them give no excuses for I will not accept them. I have given no tasks to keep them away, there are no emergencies to take care of and Avery has ordered all the children home specifically for this event so there are no temptations to speak of. It is the perfect time for you to meet everyone."

She gave him another smile as he came forward and presented her with a set of black dress robes. The sleeves split into drapes after the elbow with a silver lining on the waist and all the hems. There was also a rather revealing neck and shoulder line which had made Hermione rather reluctant to wear it and the only reason she had bought it was if she needed to use her feminine whiles, to a certain extent, to get what she wanted.

"I believe that this will go just nicely with your new jewellery," he told her. She took it from him with a critical eye and nodded. It would definitely go well. She then looked around the room…then looked back at the Dark Lord. He wasn't moving and she didn't have a giant mirror or a walk in closet to hide in.

He seemed to catch onto her obvious discomfort.

"No need to panic my dear Hera," he said quietly, "I lost my craving for flesh many years ago."

That was hardly a comforting statement but she pretended to be relieved anyway. There was only one way to make this uncomfortable situation go away…quickly. At least she wouldn't have to be completely nude. She skilfully slipped the dress over the top of her night gown and then somehow managed to slip the night gown off of her body without letting him see anything. She had never once imagined herself dressing in front of the Dark Lord, but she had to say that he at least wasn't anything like Avery who would be all over her by this point. She had to give him that much. She tried in vain to do up the corset backing both with her wand and with her hands but she either couldn't get the right angle or her fingers were too stubby to reach the ties into the right places. The Dark Lord gave and exaggerated sigh.

"Hera," he said as he walked over to stand behind her at her dresser mirror, "I know you are and independent woman but you must learn that you may rely upon men for simple tasks."

"I rely on no one my Lord," she told him as he leaned her gently forward over the dresser, so that she was resting on it and he could do up the dress, "It's just safer that way."

"And while I agree with you," he said quietly as his cold fingers grazed against her soft skin, "It is completely impractical for a woman such as yourself."

"Like _myself_?" She asked him.

"My potion's mistress has a lot of enemies my dear," he told her simply, "Including my greatest assassin."

She smirked. Right on cue.

"I thought you may have noticed that my Lord," she told him, "Miss Black nee Lestrange is not very subtle about anything let alone her affections for you."

"They can be useful," he conceded, "However in this case she is getting in the way of bigger and better things."

"It still does not explain your statement my Lord," she continued, "Miss Black's jealousy gives me even less of a reason to rely on others."

"Bella's jealousy gives you reason to rely on only _one_ person," he whispered in her ear as he did up the last string, "The very person she wishes for you to avoid at all costs."

He leaned them back up into standing position so that he was standing behind her in the mirror. He wrapped a silky hand around her wrist and her new bracelet appeared there, gleaming at her, smiling and blinking. He then pulled out his wand and with a few lazy flicks, the black strands intertwined into an elegant knot at the back of her head. He replaced his wand and both found themselves staring at the image in the mirror. An evil king, his motives clear, his path set, and a young woman by his side, whose motives were clear but path uncertain, distorted by this new image. Her blue eyes travelled over the mirror, over the bracelet, over the dress. This wasn't who she was, she knew it, this was who he wanted her to be, who she could become if she wasn't careful. She didn't like what she saw, she knew that much, but she couldn't help but see what Voldemort was thinking. The two of them, standing there side by side, the world at their feet, immortal and invincible. It would have been alluring to a weaker soul.

"Much better," he whispered as he smiled imperiously and placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Much," she whispered back, unsmiling and concerned. What road was she travelling down now?

"Come now Hera," he said, slinking is arm around her waist, "We must go down now."

She followed his lead reluctantly for many reasons that morning. There was the first and most obvious; the fact that she was letting the Dark Lord lead her around like a lost puppy. Then there was the second and not as distinct or defined; Malfoy was going to be down there and she wasn't quite sure whether she was ready to face him or not. And then there was the last reason, the most clear and yet the least obvious; she didn't know where the Dark Lord was leading her. Physically and logically she knew that he was leading her to the Great Hall, but where was he really leading her? To her death? She had known that this mission would claim her life from the very beginning, she wasn't afraid to die when it was over. She had spent months coming to terms with her own demise, it didn't frighten her anymore. But was it where she would end up? Over some bleak horizon she could see clear skies with no evil cloud or fog to banish, no horridness and no destruction. It was a world she could hold a place in, there was no doubt in that. She would be welcomed as a hero in that world just as others before her should have been. Oh yes, there was a place for her in the world she would create, but did she really want it? It was like she had said to Malfoy that evening; what if she didn't want to live through it? He said it would make her selfish, but hadn't she earned her keep? Why was she the one who had to be self sacrificing? Why couldn't she be selfish like everyone else?

Another thought crept into her mind, a silent, unbidden thought that she wanted nothing to do with. What if he wasn't leading her to her death? What if he was giving her an option? She had been fighting all her life, fighting _him_ all her life. If he offered her the chance to stop fighting, to rest, to heal…would she take it? She had spent the last seventeen years trying to find ways to undermine him and beat him and put him in his grave, but what if it was impossible? What if her plans failed, what would happen to her then? She couldn't go on the run again. If he gave her a way out, if he offered her his helping hand, would she have the strength to bat it away and suffer a Gryffindor death like her friends? After all that she had seen and done, she wasn't so sure anymore. After seventeen years, her moral compass was starting to wane and her strength had all but disappeared. Perhaps it was time to give in?

"Hera!"

"Oh bullocks," she moaned as Avery came towards them and the Dark Lord chuckled. She was beginning to think that he found this far too entertaining.

Avery came up to them, bowed to the Dark Lord and gave Hera a kiss on each cheek. He would have tried to grab her behind…had the Dark Lord's hand not been so close to it.

"Professor Avery," she greeted coldly. She was past being nice and yet he still didn't get the message.

"I do hope you got my gift this morning," he smiled at her, "I have to say that it took me a while to find the perfect diamond but I got there in the end."

Jewellery, just as she thought.

"Yes it was…lovely," she told him unconvincingly. She saw the Dark Lord continue to smirk from beside her and ignore the conversation completely. Apparently he was in one of those moods in which he preferred to be entertained rather than controlling.

"I'm so glad you liked it," he smiled again, "Shall we all head down to breakfast?"

And they did, even more reluctantly than before. Avery had tried to slip his arm around her waist too but with a hot look from the Dark Lord he instantly went to his other side and left Hermione alone. She distantly wondered where that had come from but paid no mind to it. How could she when she was about to venture into the snake pit as it was?

They entered the Great Hall together and Hermione now knew the meaning of the word 'army'. The room was filled with people she had never seen before. She thought that her welcome home feast had been full on, but now that she saw the entirety of the Dark Lord's followers she knew she should be ashamed of herself. There had to be at least a thousand people in that room dressed in either black, green or silver and each and every one of them had that Death Eater glow about them. You know, that look that just said 'I kill people for a living'.

"Welcome to your new family Hera," the Dark Lord whispered in her ear.

Family…Yeah.

They led her directly inside up to the head of the long table that had been laid out in place of the old house tables and staff table at the front. It was the length of the hall and just about the width too and considering the amount of people that were there, it wasn't entirely unnecessary either. If anything, the entire thing was under done. She was so used to seeing Christmas be a festive occasion, full of lights and ice and Hagrid's twelve Christmas trees. Of course she herself hadn't celebrated Christmas since the final battle, but it still didn't change the fact that the evening was missing a few things.

Hermione sat on Voldemort's right side and Avery sat on his left. At least she was saved from that much. The other Death Eaters took their respective places as well and all seats were filled…all but one.

"My Lord?" She asked softly just as they were about to begin.

"Yes Hera?" He answered nonchalantly.

"Where is Mr Malfoy this morning? I thought you said there were to be no excuses My Lord."

"Apparently he was quite ill when Avery went to fetch him and I did not want him infecting you," he told her, "But put him out of your mind. He is beneath you."

She could have scoffed at the irony but for her own sake, she kept silent. So Malfoy was pretending to be sick to avoid her after he sent her Christmas gift? Didn't sound like him at all. She tried to ignore her stomach as it did summersaults at the thought of him. This was starting to get ridiculous. They were acting like a couple of idiotic teenagers who would do anything to avoid the obvious embarrassment that would come from rejection. But wait, was she really afraid of him rejecting her? Or was she afraid of him loving her more?

She shook her head to try and clear it. Things were changing to quickly for her liking and she would like it very much if it would stop.

Voldemort stood and made one of his boring speeches again for the morning. In the pit of her stomach, Hermione had a horrible feeling that he would be making a speech every meal and it was a mark of the fear that he could instil in all his Death Eaters that each and every one of them at least pretended to pay attention; unless of course you were Bellatrix, then you really _were_ paying attention. After this, the room was greeted to the sight of eggs and bacon and porridge and pancakes. It was nothing out of the ordinary for Hermione or the rest of the staff and yet the others ate hungrily, like it was their last meal. She wondered how much these people were getting paid if they couldn't afford to buy a bit of bacon and eggs every now and then.

"Have you enjoyed your employment under the Dark Lord thus far Miss Grant?"

Hermione looked up from her cup of tea to see the entire hall looking at her. The one who had asked the question was none other than Augustus Rookwood. Despite the fact that he was a murderous bastard when he wanted to be, he was one of the more tame members of this circle now and far more reliable. The younger, over eager generation had taken his place as blood lusty one in this family.

She swallowed her tea and gave him a courteous smile.

"Very much so Mr Rookwood," she told him, "I have learned much here and taught only a fraction of both my newly acquired knowledge and ancient skills which had been passed to me many years ago. If only the idiot children in this castle were able to retain more than a few seconds interest in potions, perhaps they could some day be of use to our Lord."

"Are you telling me there is no one in your classes who shows promise?" He asked her.

"Oh there are those who show promise," she told him, "Just not many of them."

"Care to list a few?"

She smirked. She knew what he was looking for and she wouldn't give it to him,

"Your son is useless at potions sir," she told him blatantly, "He may have talent in other areas but as far as I'm concerned he is the worst of the lot."

He scrutinized her.

"My Lord I think she's been spending too much time with Severus' portrait," he suddenly commented to the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord looked at her in question but she simply smiled.

"Now, now Mr Rookwood," she told him sweetly, "The grease painting has nothing to do with this," the table laughed, "You're son is just simply incapable of learning the delicate art of potions. You should have seen his torture brew. His partner cried because he couldn't stop laughing at all the feathers that were tickling his insides."

The table erupted into laughter once more and Rookwood scowled. No doubt Hermione wouldn't see Richard on Monday due to his unexpected "disappearance".

"How are the rest of our children doing then?" Someone else asked.

She soon had those who were childless fighting to stay on their seats as she regaled stories of those children who were by far the worst. Not once did they stop to think that they may be in trouble if this was what the next generation of Death Eaters had to offer, then again they probably didn't care. If it was one thing she had learned about Death Eaters over the years, it was that they only ever cared about themselves. They would never think about their lord's preservation after they died or what would happen to their little kingdom once they decided to cark it. Once they were out, they were out and they wouldn't give a damn what would happen afterwards. It was just their nature. But, once again, if you were Bellatrix Lestrange, you probably had a full scale army ready to take your place.

Breakfast was a…rather informative affair. She had learned several things about several Death Eaters that she would never have guessed, like the fact that Mulciber had a thing for muggle bombs, or that Amicus Carrow liked to skin cats alive. Not one of her personal favourites but each to their own. She generally just sat there and picked up any and all information that was on offer to her…while she took the time to contemplate her situation with Malfoy. He was avoiding her; she had to make the first move. Even if they didn't…she still needed to talk to him, thank him for the book at least and tell him that he didn't need to avoid her. She wasn't going to pull a Bellatrix and try to assassinate him in front of the Dark Lord.

Apparently it wasn't just breakfast she was to stay in the hall for. The Dark Lord had planned an entire day of festivities and no one was to miss out. When all minions and lords had finished eating, she excused herself from the table to go to the bathroom and retrieve something from her room. Hopefully that would give her enough time to straighten everything out and hopefully get Malfoy down there to help her out. She moved quickly through the corridors to his rooms, not wishing to be stopped or encounter any unpleasantness along the way, but when she got there she didn't know what she could say. All plans of "thank you"s and "sorry"s flew straight out of her head as she stood before his door. She just looked at the polished wood trying to think of something to say, anything to say at all. How would she start? How would she finish? What would they be when she was done? Where would they stand? Would he help her anymore?

She could distantly hear Severus inside her mind telling her to stop being a dunderhead and get her arse in there, but her stupid fear kept getting in the way. Where was her Gryffindor pride? Where was her Gryffindor courage? She'd spent far too long in the belly of the snake and now she was nothing but a cowardly Slytherin.

"Get a hold of yourself girl," she goaded herself, just as McGonagall had once when she only got an Exceeds Expectations on an essay she had written.

She took a deep breath and turned the handle on the door without knocking. If they were going to have this conversation it wouldn't be in the hallway. She found the living room to be empty when she entered, but the familiar smell of bacon and eggs was travelling to her from the kitchen along with a familiar tune.

"If you! Like to! Move all night and day! Don't talk! Just move! Do the Hippogrif groove!"

She let out a little giggle as she ventured towards the kitchen. This was just too ironic. She opened the door silently and saw him once more frying eggs and bacon in a pan, playing air guitar with his spatula and dancing in his underwear.

"If you! Like to! Move all night and day! Don't talk! Just move! Do the Hippogrif groove!" He sang over and over again.

He was really going for it this time. His blond hair look almost spiked as it flew in all directions from his erratic dancing and he even had a spiked wristband on his left wrist. All he was missing were leather pants and some eyeliner as far as she was concerned. He would have been the perfect rocker.

She let him continue at least until he had the hot pan out of his hands so that he wouldn't injure himself when he jumped out of his skin at her sudden presence. The moment he put the pan in the sink, she spoke.

"Nice underwear," she smirked.

She was right. He jumped so high that she thought he would hit the roof. The eggs on his plate slipped to the floor and the bacon hit one of the cupboards while the toast hit the table in perfect form. He turned to stare at her, completely dumbfounded at the sight of her in his kitchen.

"W-well it's not like you haven't seen it all before," he told her when he recovered.

She shrugged in agreement and started to help him mop up his breakfast.

"I guess we need to talk huh?" He asked.

"Yeah," she breathed, "But since you just spilt your breakfast all over the kitchen, perhaps it would be better for you to stop hiding from the procession down stairs."

"I'd rather not," he told her, "I'm expecting an important visitor and I don't want to-"

"You need to eat Malfoy," she told him.

"Yes but I also faked my way to Avery this morning," he told her weakly, "I don't think he'll be to happy that I fooled him-"

"Since when do you care what Avery thinks?" She asked him with a smile and latching onto his arm, "Besides. I think it's about time that Hera and Draco made up…very publicly so that Avery will leave me alone."

He scowled down at her and she smiled back

"I hate when you do that."

"Do what??" She asked innocently

He just continued to scowl at her and she laughed at him before unhooking herself from his arm and pushing him into his room.

"Get dressed," she told him, "I doubt that attending brunch in your underwear would win you any brownie points."

He glared at her one last time before he shut the door and got himself covered. He remerged to her presence in immaculate robes of black and green. Typical of a Malfoy but beautiful all the same.

"So how bad has Avery been since we supposedly broke up?" He asked her as he smoothed himself out.

"Why?" She asked him, taking his arm once more.

"Because I want to know how badly to pour on the heat," he told her, "Don't want to send him over board and fire me now do we?"

"Well in that case," she smirked, "He's been uncharacteristically happy and trying to grab my arse every five minutes."

"Pig," he scoffed, "No wonder he could never hold onto a woman. Just the thought of that...ugh."

She laughed

"Oh stop complaining," she told him playfully, "You don't have to feel it happening day in and day out. Thank yourself lucky he doesn't fly for both teams."

"I thank Merlin every day that he's more interested in my Aunt than he ever will be in me," he told her with a shudder.

"Your aunt?" She asked incredulously, "Please tell me that that never happened."

"I was sleeping right next door when it did," he shuddered again, this time a little more violently, "I was six. It was Bella's and Rodolphus' anniversary, the entire family was there to celebrate and so were a few friends. Needless to say, Bella only appeared for very brief increments as did Avery."

"My god that's enough to turn anyone off of sex for life," she shuddered, "How on earth did you live through it?"

"Blocked my ears and prayed that it would stop soon," he laughed, "It hasn't scarred me that badly."

"How long has _that_ been going on under my nose?" She mused quietly as they stepped out of his rooms and into the hall.

"It hasn't," he told her with a smirk, "She won't let him touch her again even though he would gladly give a repeat performance."

"Now _that_ is a frightening thought," she shuddered again.

They started walking down the stairs to the Great Hall now in silence, all joking aside and deep in their own thoughts. Hermione thought of many things, like how it was so easy to slip back into their old routine now that silent apologies had been made; how safe she felt now that he was back on her side; and of course, how the Death Eaters in the Great Hall were going to get the shocks of their lives when they walked in. Draco thought of many things too. Like how it was good to have her back by his side now that all was unofficially forgiven; how he felt complete with her there on his arm and how his Aunt was more than likely going to try and kill her now that they were "back together".

"Is there anything I need to know before I walk in there?" He asked as they came up to the great oak doors.

"Rookwood is fishing for compliments about his son, so you may wish to be careful there," she told him as she smoothed out his robes and picked off tiny pieces of dust, "The Dark Lord is in a pleasant mood, so you should be able to get away with a few insults towards people but keep them at a minimum when concerning myself...he seems to favour me highly today."

"He favors you highly every day," he told her with concern as he took her wrist and held it up at eye level. The great bracelet she had been given the morning seemed to glow in the sunlight.

"The closer I am to him the easier this will be," she told him quietly before wrapping her arm around his waist and he did the same, "Now suck it up and pretend to be an idiot with me will you?"

That last line put a smile on his face that she hadn't seen for a long time, a smile that she absolutely adored. She loved how his face lit up like that and silently vowed to make him show her his smile more often from then on.

***

She laughed again for the umpteenth time that night as Zabini told another joke. Dinner had now passed and they were all simply hanging around until the Dark Lord told them that they could leave. The moment Hermione had entered the hall with Draco on her arm, the other Death Eaters had been far more receptive towards her. They had all come up to the two of them and asked "When did this happen?" or "Pansy isn't going to be all that happy now is she?" It was quite entertaining to say the least, to have them acting like regular people, all friendly and polite. Only two others were unhappy by the sudden development and as Bella and Avery huddled together in a corner drinking mead, Hermione new that Bella's demise was coming soon. Everything had gone according to plan, all she needed now was to give her a reason...

"And then, and then," Zabini said in between gasps of laughter, "The Dark Lord lights him on fire and then tosses him out the window!"

If it were not for the fact that they were talking about Zacharias Smith's demise, Hermione wouldn't be laughing at all, but it was the prick's own stupid fault for joining the Death Eaters in the first place.

"You and I have to get together again soon Blaise," Draco chuckled, "I haven't laughed this much in a long time."

"Well being out in the field always makes for the best stories...if you survive," he told them, "But I'll definitely take you up on that offer Malfoy. Next time I have a day off; we'll go to Diagon Alley and have a drink or three, just like we used to!"

"I'll hold you to that," Draco promised him just before he walked away.

"I have to say," Hermione whispered to him as they went to sit down in a seat at the corner, limbs intertwined with one another, "Zabini is quite the conversationalist."

"He's always been great," Draco smiled as he kissed her on the cheek, "Very entertaining when we were younger."

"I can only imagine," she smiled before their next visitor came over. She was just as Hermione remembered her with long flowing golden hair and wide eyes of silvery blue, inquisitive and curious.

"Hello Draco," she smiled at him, "And Miss Grant."

"Hello Lovegood," Draco drawled, "Don't you have some rhino-horned hinky dink to find?"

"Oh no," she said brightly, "The Crumple Horned Snorcak doesn't come out at Christmas. They don't like the cold."

Hermione furrowed her brow for a moment, seeming to remember something else that Luna had said in the past but let it slide. She could be wrong, after all, she never did pay attention to anything that Luna said in regards to this kind of topic. It would just end up in a fight.

"I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting," Hermione suddenly said as she held out her hand to the young woman, "Hera Grant."

"Luna Lovegood," she smiled back as she poked her pinky into Hermione's palm and then smacked her hand away entirely.

Hermione frowned and looked at Draco for help.

"It's the secret Death Eater handshake she's trying to make catch on," Draco explained to her, "She seems to think we need a handshake and that was the best she could come up with."

Hermione looked at Luna curiously, but again, said nothing. Now would not be a prime time to make a scene. As Luna folded her arms indignantly across her chest, Hermione caught a glimpse of the dark mark on her wrist. It was faded.

"How long ago did you join our Lord Miss Lovegood?" Hermione asked her politely.

"Oh not long ago now," she told her with a smile, "What was it Draco? Five years ago now?"

"Six," Draco rolled his eyes, "And why do you insist on calling me by my given name? I never gave you permission."

"Yes you did," she smiled brightly, "Last year's Christmas party. You'd had a bit to drink, I'll admit, but you still gave me permission after we-"

Draco suddenly stood and covered Luna's mouth with his very large hand. He looked rather irritated about whatever it was that she was about to say. Hermione had a fair idea at what it was and smirked as she watched the exchange between them.

"I told you never to talk about that," he hissed at her.

"Why?" She asked as she rolled her eyes, "It's not like it wasn't obvious after you pinched my-"

He shushed her quite hurriedly again and Hermione had to giggle at the two of them. It was most entertaining to think that Malfoy had been bedded by Luna Lovegood. He was just so serious and smart and always had to be right and here comes this dazed, confused looking little blond girl. How on earth did she land him? Must have taken a lot of wine.

"Remember how many galleons I paid you to keep quiet about this?" Draco hissed again, "I want my money's worth!"

"Oh don't worry Draco," she smirked in a very un-Luna like manor, "Your secret's safe with me." she winked. Draco turned red.

Luna turned back to Hermione and smiled at her again.

"It was lovely to meet you," she said cheerily, "We should get together and go plimpie fishing!"

She didn't wait for her to respond and bounded off in Avery's direction. Draco just stood there looking dumbfounded for a few minutes and Hermione couldn't help but burst out laughing and almost fall from her seat.

"And what is it that my Potions Mistress finds so funny?"

Hermione stopped laughing and smiled as the Dark Lord drew nearer to them. She once more put up her walls and linked herself with Draco who was more than willing to receive her.

"Miss Lovegood is a most entertaining woman my Lord," she giggled, "Might I ask you what plimpies are?"

"I have yet to find out," he scowled, "She may be eccentric, but Lovegood has her uses. She's particularly gifted with deception."

_No kidding_, she couldn't stop herself from thinking. The Dark Lord's eyes suddenly wondered to where Hermione and Draco were joined. Her arm was around his waist and his fingers were making lazy circles through the fabric of her dress onto her hip. Hermione saw him looking and held her breath. This was the part of their reconciliation that she had been most frightened of...that Voldemort may disapprove and make things difficult. She could see both Bella and Avery listening in the wings, ready to pick up the pieces when everything was destroyed. Avery would swoop in and try to comfort her and Bella would be beside Draco with a hard word in seconds. However it wasn't to be so.

"Do not let _this_," Voldemort gestured to them as he spoke to her, "Affect your work."

Hermione's face broke out into a slow smile as she watched Avery and Bella dawn on what had just happened. She disguised it as pleasure at being given permission to continue her relationship with Draco and directed her smile towards the Dark Lord instead of at the other two.

"Thank you My Lord," she said to him, "I promise it won't."

"I want draught ideas for my new potion by Monday," he told her, "No excuses, no exceptions."

"I'll do my best My Lord," she smiled at him, even though she was screaming inside again. Repairing a soul was a very daunting task to be given.

"You two may leave early and...spend some time together," he told them, "I shall be letting the others go soon."

They didn't need telling twice. After a hasty thank you to him they raced hand in hand out the door and almost collapsed into laughter on the stair case. Hermione had to clutch onto Malfoy for the rest of the way back to his rooms so that she wouldn't trip over in her high heels.

"Di-did you see the look on their faces," she gasped in between giggles as she collapsed on the couch, "Absolutely priceless!"

"Merlin they belong together," Draco chuckled as he collapsed right next to her, "Did you see they both shattered their glasses at the same time? Maybe if they teamed up they would get what they wanted..."

"No they wouldn't," she started laughing again, leaning her head on his shoulder, "He would just try to get in her knickers the entire time."

They laughed again and again until both were left completely breathless, clutching onto each other for support. After the hysteria died away, there was nothing but contentment left. She felt him wrap his arms around her and pull her closer to him unconsciously and sigh when she didn't try to pull away.

"How did we survive a month without this?" He asked her.

"I don't know," she replied, her head remaining on his shoulder, "I'm sorry we had to."

There was a small pause between them. Hermione sighed contentedly and relished the feeling of being in someone's arms again. It had been a long time since she had felt this safe, a long time since she had been this happy. But there was fear underlying this happiness, fear of where things were going for them now. This was exemplified when she felt him draw her face up to look at him. They were so close, mere centimeters apart. She could feel his breath on her lips, sweet with wine and céme br­­ûlé dessert. He was leaning in, this time not giving her any chances to pull away. He had made up his mind, he knew what he wanted, but she had no idea what she wanted, she _had_ to pull away.

"Malfoy..." she whispered as she unwrapped herself from his arms and stood, clutching her head in her hands. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"He was wrong," he said quietly to himself.

"W-who was wrong?" She asked him hesitantly.

"Father," he said blankly, "He said you felt the same way. Obviously he was wrong."

She bit her bottom lip for a few moments. They needed to be honest with each other, she knew it just as much as he did, but telling the truth was every bit as scary as living it. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"No," she whispered, "He isn't wrong."

Draco opened his eyes and stared at her in disbelief. He watched her pace up and down the room for several seconds before standing from the couch and stopping her. He placed both his hands on her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye.

"You _do_ feel the same way?" He asked disbelievingly.

"Yes," she said weakly. He just stared at her in confusion again.

"So then..." he mumbled, "Where's the problem?

Clearly he'd never been in this kind of situation before. Hermione couldn't lay claim to anything like this either but she at least knew how to act. She disengaged herself from him once more and started pacing again.

"I'm scared!" She blurted out as she walked and chewed her nails, "I'm scared of where this is going. I haven't been in contact with anyone remotely human for the past ten years and now I'm finding myself ridiculously attracted to someone I used to hate!"

He rolled his eyes and once more stood in her path. She walked into him and he circled his arms around her waist. He moved one hand up her back to her neck, drawing lazy circles with his thumb on her now heated flesh. He bent his head to hers, pressing his forehead to hers as he stared into her eyes and whispered.

"Do I look ten foot tall and curse proof?" He asked her, "I'm not exactly confident either."

"But-"

"No buts Granger," he smirked, "Trust you to over think everything."

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are," he whispered bluntly, "But this isn't about thinking. For once in your life, switch off your oversized brain and just..._feel_."

She couldn't help but obey when he was this close. She felt his breath tickle her lips, she felt his hands on her waist and neck and she felt his body heat begin to mingle with her own. She gasped a little when she felt him back her gently into a wall, her hands automatically going to his arms to steady herself and she sighed in contentment when his lips finally connected with hers. It was sweet at first, gentle, caressing.

The contrast between the cool of the stone wall and the heat of his body was wonderful. She heard him sigh as she ran her hands down his chest and pull him closer by the neck of his robes. He deepened their sweet little kiss and it went from gentle and nice to heated and passionate within seconds.

It was a long awaited moment, a moment that Draco thought would never come, a moment that Hermione had tried and failed not to think about and it was sweeter and more satisfying than anything their imaginations could have provided them with. She felt his hands on her thighs, just under her behind, pick her up, lift her from the ground and bring her to his level.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and felt many things at once. She felt giant bats fly around in her tummy, she felt his cool lips on her neck and his growing hardness on her thigh. And it felt almost new to her. She had only ever done this once before and back then her partner had been sloppy and thinking only of his own release. Draco was worshiping her, every inch of her he could get to.

"Draco," she whispered as his lips hit a sensitive spot under her pulse point. It was his undoing, hearing his name escape her lips for the first time. He ravaged her with a new vigor now, reclaiming her lips within seconds and pressing her harder to him, bringing his body flushed against hers as she circled her arms around his neck. She felt him take her away from the wall and begin to walk backwards in a daze. How they managed to not hit anything on their way to the bedroom would forever be a mystery to her.


	18. Answers

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**Yes, I know it's been a long time and yes I know that this chapter is a little short but I stand by what I've said to everybody who has asked over the time that this story has stayed...motionless. I WILL NOT ABANDON THIS STORY, No matter what happens you will get updates. it may take a while as there are a few chapters that have to go in between the main ones I have mapped out but I will still continue with this no matter how long it takes. Thank you very much for your patience and please review for me. It helps give me inspiration!  
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**~VTM**

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Chapter Eighteen: Answers

_She sat within the vast meadow, sunlight pouring onto her skin. It was nice to feel warmth again, soft caressing rays of sunlight. It had been so long since she'd been able to feel its comfort. She tilted her head back and breathed in deeply the scents of lilac and lavender and roses mingled together. She leaned back on her hands and watched the puffs of white clouds go past in many shapes and varieties. She could have sworn that one looked like Draco on a broomstick...or maybe that was his broomstick._

_She was just about to close her eyes when she felt movement by her body. She peered down curiously at the sight of a large serpent before her. She leaned forward as Nagini gazed at her and she gazed back. She tilted her head to the side. She knew that she was supposed to feel fear, or surprise, or something other than the calm that had engulfed her...but she didn't. She had a small smile on her face as she spoke._

_"You're supposed to be dead," she said to the snake, "I delivered your head to your master myself."_

_The snake hissed in response._

_"Are you aware that you've been replaced?" She asked her, "I haven't met the thing yet but according to Avery he's a real beast. Pravus, I believe he was named. Fitting don't you think?"_

_The snake hissed again. A low and soothing hiss. It was almost as if the creature cared less than what she did. It then began to slither away and Hermione tilted her head to the other side. She suddenly felt the compulsion to follow. She stood and called out to it as it moved away._

_"Hey!" She called, "I'm not done goading you!"_

_She stood and began to run after it. It sped up its movements and soon she was sprinting to keep up. Her hair whipped about in the wind as the sky began to darken. Soft white puffs of cloud suddenly turned grey, almost black. The earth began to shake before her feet and the overpowering calm suddenly left her body. She felt something slither up her foot and thought for a moment that Nagini had returned. Instead she found a vine begin to creep up her leg and then another. Soon sharp walls of vines and thorns began to form around her. She began to panic and felt for her wand but it wasn't there. She struggled as much as she could out of the death grip the plant held her in and tried to stay away from it. She ran backwards but a wall of black thorns stood in her path. She tried to move to the side but she was blocked in by thick leaves and wood. She had no choice but to venture forth into the maze before her. She took a deep breath to steady herself and stepped forward._

_She came to dead ends, she found herself going around in circles and she didn't know what to do with herself. She had never felt so...lost before. She had always known her path, always known where she was going until now._

_Suddenly she felt another slither by her foot. She instinctually jumped away from in only to find Nagini by her side once more. She looked down at the serpent and suddenly felt calm again as she made eye contact with its black orbs._

_"Ok," she said, "If you get me out of here I promise not to make fun of your death again."_

_The snake hissed in response._

_"Merlin I wish I was a parselmouth," she muttered as the snake began to move again. She followed her in the hopes of being led out and to safety. They travelled for what seemed like hours and she had to run to try and keep up with the damned thing. It took unexpected turns, lefts, rights and even went backwards at one point. She was starting to get dizzy and didn't know where she was going at all. But at least she didn't crash into any spiny walls. That had to be something._

_It seemed to take them hours to get to the very heart of the maze. The calm suddenly abated once more and it wasn't until she looked around that she noticed that Nagini had disappeared once more. She looked around frantically for it but there was no sign of the creatures black scales. She then took in her surroundings. She was still inside the maze of thick thorns and leaves and branches. That much she knew. Before her there were three doors, two left ajar and one at the end that was shut. She peered inside the first door and gasped. Harry stood there burning and charred, black as night, his skin decaying before her eyes. She started breathing heavily. She knew where she was now, she knew what she had to do. Only this time she had a choice about how she would suffer. She peered into the second door to see Ron, bloated, decaying and rotting in the desert with bloodied rain. Then there was the third door shut tight where she could see nothing._

_So it was a choice between old and new? Familiar and strange? Either way she was going to suffer. She had no illusions that the third door held something pleasant. But who would burn this time around? Who else would drown before her eyes? She took a deep shuddering breath. There was only one way to find out. She closed her eyes and opened the third door, twisting the knob with a firm grip. Tentatively she stepped inside onto a floor of concrete stone. She felt stone walls on either side of her replacing the wooden thorns and a cool breeze ran by her, licking at her skin. It carried a smell on the air, the smell of rust and copper. Blood. She instinctually whimpered. She didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to see the body of another friend. But there was only one way to end this nightmare, she knew it well. She let out a choked sob as she ventured further forward and felt a thick pool of blood at her feet. She couldn't, it was too much to bare! She couldn't watch another friend die before her eyes. Not anymore. But she had to. She knew she had to. If she wanted to get out of there she had to open her eyes._

_With a deep shuddering breath she commanded herself to look. She wished instantly that she hadn't. She screamed at the sight of Luna Lovegood nailed to the great oak doors of the entrance hall. She had barbed thorns around her wrist, ankles and waist and her eyes were bloodshot, leaking with mingled tears and a black substance she had never seen before._

_She suddenly lifted her head and uttered a single word..._

_"Hermione..."_

"Hermione! Hermione wake up!"

She shot up in the bed and screamed as loud as she could, tears flooding her eyes as she sat there rocking back and forth until Draco's arms wrapped tightly around her waist and hugged her to his naked chest. Her eyes were wide, her jaw was shuddering in fright and her body was ridged. Draco didn't know what to do with her. He simply held her there and waited for her shaking and shivering to stop but it wouldn't abate. She clutched to his body like an anchor and wouldn't let go of him for anything. It was then that he had to make a decision. He dislodged himself from her and placed some clothes on his body before placing some on hers. He then moved quickly over to his fireplace and called for the medi witch. Thank Merlin Pomfrey hadn't died yet. She was there out of his fire in seconds and she seemed conflicted by the sight before her. Someone was in trouble, suffering....but that same someone had also murdered a boy not too long ago and would probably kill many more. She was one of the Dark Lord's favorites.

"I can't help her," she said, shaking her head.

"You haven't even looked at her!" He exclaimed.

"I don't care how fond you are of her Draco," she said defiantly, "I don't care what _he_ does to me either. I won't help her."

Draco suddenly comprehended the meaning behind her words and placed a soft hand on her shoulder.

"She's not what she seems Poppy," he told her softly, "Please. Just trust me here."

Poppy looked from Draco to the girl and back again. She had learned to trust Draco once he joined the order, she had learned that his mother's death had cleared his judgment and made him a good man. This would be a good part of her decision. What she could not factor in was the effect that this girl may have had on him. As she appeared or not, she had still killed on boy and sentenced the other to death in the same night. His love for her may have overridden that fact.

"Please Poppy," he begged softly, "I wouldn't trust anyone else."

She gave a soft sigh and walked over to where the young woman lay. She worked on her for almost an hour before she came to the conclusion that there was nothing physically wrong with her and told Draco as such.

"What was she doing before she was like this?" She asked him.

"Sleeping," he told her, "We'd just finished...."

"I see," the older woman blushed slightly, "Has she ever been like this before?"

"Not that I know of," he told her.

The old matron gave a sigh once more and looked over to the young woman once more, still rocking back and forth, eyes wide, arms wrapped around her tightly.

"She hasn't been cursed," she told him, "Or given any kind of poison. My Dark Arts knowledge may be limited but I can tell you that much."

"So," Draco said slowly, "She's done this to herself? It's all in her head?"

The matron nodded.

"What you must remember is that nightmares to witches and wizards are more vivid than what they are to muggles because of the magic that runs through our blood," she told him, "Until her magic decides to release her, there's nothing you or I or anyone else can do for her."

Draco looked at her for a few moments before turning back to Hermione. No. The medi witch was wrong. This was something more than a nightmare. He had seen his mother after having nightmares and she was nothing like this. He had seen his father after a nightmare and he was never this frightened. Whatever this was, it wasn't just a nightmare. As Poppy left the room Draco walked back over to her and tried to wrap his arms around her once more but she flinched away from him. He looked at her perplexedly. Before she had held onto him for dear life and now she didn't want to be touched at all? No, it was definitely not just a dream. He let out a great shuddering breath before making a decision. He went over to the fireplace and walked through to her rooms where he knew Severus would be sleeping. The former potions master had passed out on a painted chaise lounge that had once contained a beautiful blond woman in a red scarlet dress. He had to snicker when he noticed that the woman was now lying on a giant banana looking rather uncomfortable.

"Severus," he whispered, "Severus I need you to wake up."

"And why would you need that?"

Draco inwardly cringed at the sound of his voice. Of course Dark Lords didn't sleep. Too much evil to enjoy. He turned around and went to stand before Voldemort, inwardly panicking, trying to think of any excuse possible but there was none. There was no getting out of this or covering it up. He had to tell him now that he was here.

"I didn't wish to wake you my Lord," he said as he bowed, "I thought that the painting may be able to help me and I would not have to disturb you."

"No matter," he said, "I was already awake. Why are you here?"

"It's Hera, my Lord," he told him swiftly, "She needs help."

Voldemort was in the fireplace faster than Draco had ever seen him move. He didn't even give him a chance to explain that the danger was not immediate. Draco followed after him, as did the now wide awake Severus, though he obviously took a different route.

Draco entered to see the Dark Lord hovering over her with his wand, his movements methodical as his hands glided over her form without touching her, something Draco was grateful for. He noticed as he drew nearer that her breathing had become less labored. What ever Voldemort was doing was working. He suddenly stiffened when he looked into her eyes, undoubtedly reading her mind. He panicked slightly when he realized that his wand was over on his bedside table, right next to the Dark Lord who still had his gaze locked with hers. He licked his lips out of nervousness and prepared to dodge an Avada when it came his way...but nothing happened. When the Dark Lord pulled away from her he stared at her for several moments before he leaned back slightly and stared at her some more. She seemed to relax even more and lean back into her pillow, still wide eyed and closed off from everyone else, but none the less a little more relaxed and a little less guarded.

"What's happened to her my Lord?" Draco asked him, "What did you see?"

"A great many things," he told him, "None of which I shall discuss with you."

The Dark Lord cast a quick levitation spell and Hermione was lifted from the bed, fetal position and all, and they passed through the fireplace together. Draco let out another shuddering breath.

What had he done?

***

She felt it when the Dark Lord laid her back in her own bed and she shuddered slightly when she felt his finger caress her bare cheek. It was meant to be reassuring but after everything she had just seen it could be anything but.

"I know what you are going through Hera," he whispered to her, "It is...disturbing to say the least."

She just lay there, speechless, confused, tired and frightened of her own mind.

"When it happened to me I was only sixteen," he told her, "I did not give in to fear quite as much as you did but not everyone is as strong as I am."

She felt her body begin to relax out of its petrified state, her muscles loosen at the thought that someone else might know what's going on with her, no matter who it might have been. She felt his fingers on her hair as he looked her directly in the eyes.

"Do you know what has happened to you Hera?" He asked her softly, "Do you know why you are so paralyzed by something that seems so insignificant."

She felt her mouth to be dry but she managed to croak out a response as her voice began to work again too.

"No," she whispered.

"You and I are very alike," he told her, "Our minds are so logical, so methodical that nothing can break into it while we are aware of what's going on around us. Our walls are impenetrable, undetectable. The reason you are plagued with such nightmares is because they can not get to you while you are awake?"

"Who?" She whispered.

"The ghosts of your past," he told her, "They haunt your dreams because they are unable to get to you during the day."

She blinked for the first time since she woke up and wiped at the tear marks on her face as she looked at him. She shuddered slightly at the thought that he may have been inside her head but didn't say anything of it when she sat up and looked at him properly.

"That's impossible," she said to him, "Who among the dead would want to visit me?"

"Past victims perhaps?" He asked of her, "They are only ever able to appear in dreams in the state they were in when they died. From what I was able to see inside your mind you burned someone alive, drowned another and...Did something strange and cruel to the last. I'll have to hear about that later."

No doubt he would.

"You said that it had happened to you before, my Lord?" She asked him hesitantly.

He nodded.

"The souls of my mother's brother and....others came to visit me after their untimely demises," he told her, "I was discomforted by their presence."

"How did you get them to stop?" She asked him.

"They only came once," he answered, "It seemed that I frightened them even in death."

She had no doubt about that.

"Have these dreams happened more than once?" He asked her and she nodded.

"Always at three in the morning," she shuddered, "The same nightmare every night until it switches to a new one."

"Draco appeared to be ignorant of this," he told her.

"Because I managed to hide it from him until now," she answered him earnestly, thinking up lies quickly, "This last one was overpowering."

The Dark Lord thought for a few moments, his crimson eyes finding the floor in concentration.

"If they are spirits of victims then they shall tire of it," he told her, "They always do. It may take some longer than others but they eventually dissipate without leaving a trace of damage behind."

She looked away from him and fortified her expression before looking back to him. She had a hard mask on her face that betrayed no emotion what so ever.

"I will no longer allow this to continue," she told him, "I shall find a way to be rid of them."

He nodded to her.

"You had best get some rest," he told her, "You have much to do in the morning, many people to see."

"May I go back to Draco my Lord?" She asked him quietly, "He will be somewhat concerned for my health."

He looked her up and down and then gave a brief nod.

"No extracurricular activities," he told her as he walked away into his own rooms once more. She gave a chuckle and nod before her face set in stone once more and she made her way into the fireplace. She could already hear Draco having a go at Severus for something that he had no control over.

"...So stupid, it was just a bloody nightmare!" He yelled, "One minute she was fine and the next-"

"She's standing by your fireplace wondering why you're yelling at a portrait?" Severus offered.

"What? No! She was stiff as a board and now she's-"

"Standing by your fireplace wondering why you're yelling at a portrait," Hermione spoke.

At the sound of her voice he spun around with wide eyes. He almost ran to her, crushing his lips to hers in a fierce kiss. When he ended the kiss he still didn't let her go. She could see Severus over his shoulder roll his eyes at the two of them. She gave Draco another reassuring squeeze before moving over to the bed and pulling him with her.

"What happened?" He asked her softly.

"I'm not sure exactly," she told him, "But from what the Dark Lord told me, it seems that Harry, Ron and Luna have been visiting me in my sleep."

He looked at her completely perplexed, as did Severus until she explained to them about the nightmares. They listened patiently until she came to describe Luna's nightmare and what Voldemort had told her back in her chambers. Severus looked as though he understood everything. Draco looked slightly confused.

"How did he not pick up who you really were?" He asked her, "I saw him, he went directly into your mind while you were unguarded."

"I was flicking through things so quickly," she told him, "I was flipping from one image to another. It must have been too fast for him to grasp at anything useful."

"You say you had dreams of Potter and Weasley?" Severus asked and she nodded, "And you say the Dark Lord believes these dreams are spirits of the dead trying to contact you from the other side?"

"That is his belief," she told him.

"Then what of Lovegood?" He asked, "She certainly appears to be alive and kicking."

"Is she?" Hermione asked him, "Back at the party I noticed several things were wrong with her."

"Like what?" Draco asked.

"All during school, all that girl ever talked about were Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," she told him, "She said at the party that they hate the cold and yet at school they loved the cold and hated the warmth."

"It's been a long time since we were at school Hermione," Draco told her, "You could have remembered it wrong."

"And what about that supposed handshake?" Hermione asked him, "Luna Lovegood had to have been the _most_ eccentric person I have ever known and that tiny slap is all she could come up with?"

Draco started to rub his chin in thought and Severus began to pace in his picture of Doxies playing poker.

"The one thing that really stuck out though," Hermione concluded, "Was her dark mark."

"What about it?" Draco asked.

"It was faded," she told him, "Far more faded than five or six year's worth of service. You're looking at twenty at least."

"You think she's being impersonated by another Death Eater?" Severus asked.

She nodded.

"It makes sense in a warped sort of way," she told him, "And if she is being impersonated then...if we take the dreams I've been having seriously..."

She gave a slight sniff and looked away from the two of them. Draco wrapped his arms around her and was relieved that she leaned into him rather than pushed him away. She wrapped her arms around him too.

"It hurts less to know that she hasn't betrayed us all," she told him in a watery laugh, "That's if we're right though."

"Whether you are or not," Draco told her softly, "We'll deal with it when the time is right."

"We can't leave it," she whispered to him.

"Hermione we have more important things to do than chase after Death Eaters in disguise," he told her.

"No," she shook her head, "We have to deal with it."

"Why?"

They turned to look at Severus.

"Why do you have to deal with it?" He asked her, "She is obviously not a threat to you considering who ever she really is knows nothing of your real identity. The real Lovegood would have spotted you a mile away."

"It's a matter of honor Severus," she told him, "Luna doesn't deserve it."

"Honor has nothing to do with war Granger," he told her firmly, "Whether Lovegood deserves it or not you could risk your cover by doing something about it-"

"I can't sit there and watch while-"

"You must if you wish to survive," he told her, "If you wish to win this war then you have to discard your Gryffindor idiocy."

"You call nobility idiocy?"

"Nobility is the reason that I ended up as a mere piece of paper," he told her darkly.

"He's right Hermione."

She looked up at Draco in shock and hurt.

"We can't do anything about it," he told her, "Not yet. Wait until we get the wand sorted and then we can do something."

"But-"

"You had best get some rest," he told her, wrapping his arms lovingly around her waist "You have much to do in the morning, many people to see."

Though they had said the exact same thing, the meaning behind their words was entirely different. That comfort alone persuaded Hermione to rest her head next to Draco's for the rest of the night and sleep peacefully for once.


	19. A Bad Day For All

**Hello Lovely Readers!**

**Well, here's the next bit, as promised! Even if it is rather late. But as I said in the last chapter, I will not be abandoning this story. It just takes a lot of work to get the chapters right so that the surprises at the end aren't so unbelievable. So read, review and please don't kill me!**

**~VTM

* * *

**

Chapter Nineteen: A Bad Day For All

The days after Christmas passed without incident and soon the students were back. She noticed rather quickly that Voldemort had sectioned off the Death Eaters that wished to remain at the castle after the holiday festivities. The hope was that student deaths would be minimal but somehow Draco wasn't at all convinced that it would work.

"Avery is a complete idiot if he thinks that a few walls and staircases are going to keep them away from the children," he told her before work that morning, "They may be complete fools but come on; Even a third year is capable of breaking into those common rooms these days."

She became quite concerned over the next week when she saw the likes of Rabastan Lestrange eying some of them with a predatory glint in his eye as they walked past them to meals or out onto the grounds. She even had to hex Yaxley when she saw him dragging Angela Sparks into a spare classroom. When he went and reported her to Voldemort, he was thrown out of the Dark Lord's chambers with a few good bouts of the Cruciatus Curse and a broken arm. Once he went sniveling away Voldemort sat and watched Hermione drink an entire pot of tea by herself.

"They have their uses," he said to her, "However they do tend to over indulge. Why put temptation in front of them?"

She was inclined to agree the next morning when she found Delia Strong motionless on the fifth floor corridor without a stitch on her body.

In addition to this Hermione was introduced to many other Death Eaters who were far more eager to make her acquaintance than what she thought they would be. Voldemort moved her around the room where they all hovered and whispered and introduced her one by one. Marcus Flint was much too eager indeed as he looked at her hungrily and then tried to pour on the charm. She and Draco had a good laugh about it later as they ate dinner in his rooms and let loose as they talked over the week's events.

Also of interest was the fact that _Knots and All_ had turned out to be a complete waste of parchment.

"I don't understand it!" Hermione cried one afternoon after lessons were done and dinner was hours away, "The theory makes no sense! The photographs have nothing to do with the text! And the book itself seems to have been written backwards, sideways and upside down!"

"Perhaps we're missing something," Draco offered as he walked over to her by the coffee table carrying two glasses of elf mead, "Think back to your conversation with the old coot. What did he tell you about the book?"

She did as she was told, trying desperately to fast forward past the bits with Ginny and Arthur...

_"Unfortunately, I will not be around to see it," he coughed again, this time more violently "There is a book, in Hogwarts," he told her "_Knots and all, _is the title. Find it, and it will tell you everything you need to know about wand making. In the back, there is a concealment charm on the inside of the cover. Open it."_

_He coughed again and again as blood began to spill from his mouth. His time had come._

_Ginny grabbed a towel from somewhere and held it to Ollivander._

_He coughed and spluttered up more blood before he collapsed back onto the bed once again, looking more pale than ever. Hermione felt tears prickle the edges of her eyes._

_"Don't cry for this old man," he told her fondly "I have lived a long and almost happy life. I am ready to meet death with welcome arms."_

_"Say hi to Harry and Ron for me," she told him "And everybody else if they're around."_

_"I expect they'll be watching over you," he told her "While having Albus force lemon drops on them."_

"It doesn't help," she sighed as she took a sip of her mead, "We already opened the concealment charm and it gave us nothing."

"Did he say anything about a password or-"

"No, nothing," she shook her head, "This is completely and utterly ridiculous! Why would he give me a book that doesn't make any sense?"

"I don't know," he said as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, "But we'll find out. If anyone is capable of taking down his scaly lordship, it's us."

She sighed again and rested her head on his shoulder. She was beginning to feel a real strain these days. Trying to juggle saving the world with school duties and her projects for the Dark Lord as well as trying desperately hard to keep him in the dark was becoming next to impossible. Yes it helped to have Draco by her side and she had no doubt that she would have either died or collapsed form exhaustion a long time ago if it were not for him but it didn't change the fact that it was not enough. It made her think back to her third year where she was taking far too many classes for her own good. She got very little sleep, she barely ate and yet her grades were as high as ever. Her personal life may have suffered but compared to having an "Outstanding" in every class, it was nothing. It was the same here. No matter how little she slept or how many times Draco was forced to feed her it was still worth it to know that the world would be safe, even if it meant losing her life.

Of course if she hadn't worked herself into the ground that year they would never have been able to save Sirius. Likewise if she hadn't come back to Hogwarts she would never have discovered Draco's true allegiance. If she had never discovered his true allegiance then she wouldn't have known how much she had seriously misjudged him. Yes, he was still the same sarcastic, cocky Malfoy with a head so big that she was surprised it fit inside the door frame but he was also funny, amazingly selfless and loving. Without him she would have gotten nowhere.

"Hermione? Hermione are you in there?"

She shook her head from her day dream and looked back at him as he stared at her with an amused smirk on his face.

"I've been trying to get your attention for ages," he laughed, "Where were you?"

"Just thinking," she smiled, "What is it?"

"We need to get down to the Great Hall," he told her, "The Dark Lord has an announcement to make at dinner and he said for none of us to be late."

She stared down at the book before her one last time before looking back at him.

"Alright then," she sighed, "We'll just have to figure it out later."

He gave her a light kiss before they walked out of his rooms together. It was when they turned the first corner and saw that Voldemort was in fact waiting for them that they knew that this announcement was obviously _very_ important. Hermione put on her best radiant smile as they approached him and Draco kept his face completely blank.

"Good evening my Lord," she said respectfully as she bowed and Draco did the same.

"Good evening Hera," the Dark Lord replied before turning to Draco, "I will be accompanying Hera to the Great Hall. You will seat yourself next to your Aunt. Do not inform her that she shall be moving."

Draco couldn't help but make a face to which the Dark Lord raised an imaginary eyebrow.

"Is there a problem Draco?" He asked in a light and yet somehow threatening tone.

"Not at all my Lord," he responded, "It's just that if you are about to do what I think you're about to do then we are in for a spectacular show. Spectacular, yes, but in no way good."

"She will either submit or die," Voldemort told them, "It would be a waste but it is a sacrifice I'm willing to make for the sake of progress."

"Very well my Lord," Draco bowed once more before moving past them and brushing Hermione's hand as he went. To her surprise the Dark Lord then took both her hands and examined her wrists.

"Where is your bracelet?" He asked her.

"I do not wear it during classes," she told him calmly, "Teaching potions is quite hazardous to jewelry my Lord."

"Where is it now?" He asked her.

"Inside my chambers," she answered.

"Good," he stated, "We shall go there first and you may change from your teach robes to something a little more fitting."

She looked at him confusedly but did not receive clarification as he took her arm and began to walk her up the corridor once more. Once inside her rooms he immediately went to her closet and began to look at her dress robes just as he had on Christmas day.

"Your affection for Malfoy has grown," he said casually as he eyed a silver set that was hidden in the back, "Is there anything that I should know?"

"Not at all my Lord," she told him as she sat on her bed, "My arrangement with Draco is very much the same as it ever was. Friends with benefits, nothing more."

"Your friendship is far...deeper than what it should be," he told her as he moved onto a black set on the other side of the silver, "Do you love him?"

She somehow managed to bypass her shock and the question and throw a small smirk in his direction.

"Did we not decide that love was an illusion my Lord?" She asked him.

"Do not avoid the question Hera," he said as he finally turned to face her, "Do you love him?"

She managed to put on a halfway believable smile and walk over to him, taking the emerald green set that he was holding out of his hands and staring directly into his eyes.

"No, my Lord," she said quietly, "I do not."

He searched her face and undoubtedly her mind as well for any sign of deception but found none. The one positive aspect of trying to save the world was that you became very adept at lying very quickly. She would never have been able to get away with this at Hogwarts, never.

"Very well," he said, still looking staunch, "Change into these, put the bracelet on and we shall then head down to the hall."

She nodded and then began to undress, knowing that the Dark Lord would say and do nothing at the sight of her half naked body. Once she had the robes on he placed her in front of the mirror exactly as he had during Christmas morning and once more did up her corset straps, these robes simply being an emerald green version of the black and silver dress she had worn that day. After this he placed the bracelet upon her wrist and she smiled.

"Shall we go?" She asked him, "I am most anxious to hear your news, my Lord."

"Yes," he said quietly as he gazed down at her, "Let us leave."

He once more looped his cold arm with hers and they began to make their way to the Great Hall once more. Unlike before, the Dark Lord seemed to take his time in guiding her down the steps and across the halls. It was almost as if he were waiting for something and Hermione could not think for the life of her what it would be. It wasn't until they reached the second floor corridor that he spoke once more.

"Have your dreams ceased?" He asked her, "We have not had a chance to broach the subject since the night of your...episode."

She looked away from him as she answered.

"No they have not," she told him, "They have become more vivid."

"They can not harm you," he told her, "Remember that and you will live through it."

She gave a small nod as they finally reached the Great Hall. He turned her to face him as he inspected her image, placing his hand at first under her chin and inspecting her face before running it down the silk of her dress. His poisonous red eyes seemed far more critical than usual as he looked her over, as though she needed to be absolutely perfect for the feast that evening. She couldn't for the life of her think of why. That was until he took her arm once more and led her inside. Every single Death Eater that she had met over the holiday period lined the walls of the hall and surrounded the anxious students who sat at their tables. Applause soon erupted when it was noticed that they had finally arrived. Hermione did her best to look bashful when in fact she looked at Draco and tried to convey her concern. He too was looking uncomfortable as he sat next to his aunt who resided next to the Headmaster's chair.

They made it to the staff table and Voldemort stood before Bella with a glare in his eye.

"You will be taking Hera's seat from now on Bella," he told her, "Move."

Bella looked as though she would protest for a few moments until she saw the glare in his eye intensify and she knew that she would be killed on the spot if she didn't do as she was told. Instead, she held her head high and stood gracefully, glaring at Hermione as she went and moved five seats back to sit on the end. The Dark Lord then pulled out her chair for her and Hermione was silently told to sit. She did so without thinking.

Everyone but the Dark Lord sat in their seats and turned their full attention towards him. She felt Draco grab her hand under the table and she gave him a reassuring squeeze. Whatever happened, they would be fine. Whatever trouble came their way, they would beat it.

"It is my pleasure to announce that Miss Hera Grant will receive my mark and become a fully fledged Death Eater this coming Saturday night..."

Except that.

Draco suddenly stiffened next to her and her head flew in the Dark Lord's direction in utter shock. Bella's eyes just about popped out of her skull and the feral snarl that escaped her lips did not go unnoticed by those who could hear it.

"She has served me faithfully these past months and has shown nothing but devotion to her lord," he continued, "You will therefore bow to her as you do me. Only I am her master now."

Shaky applause broke out as Voldemort took his seat and the feast began. Hermione couldn't even find the strength to eat as she sat there staring at her plate in shock. It wasn't possible! How could have come to this so soon?! There was no way in Merlin's oldest pair of underpants that she could _ever _take that mark without screaming. How could she possibly bare the mark of the man who destroyed her life? Who took her friends from her? Destroyed her family? Who ruined so many lives? Who turned her into a murderer?

Who brought her Draco.

It was a sick and twisted thought, one that should never have crossed her mind but it was true that if none of this had ever happened then she would never have found Draco the way she had now. She would never have known what he was really like or even given him a chance to show her what he could really be like. She would have gone through her life, probably with Ron, having kids, working all manor of night and day, never knowing what she could have had.

And she would have been unhappy.

She loved Ron, she really did with all her heart and some part of her would always love him but he had never been right for her. She could see that now. He was loving and kind and generous and always thought of her before himself. He had proven that the day he died. But Draco was all those things plus witty and charming and sophisticated. She needed someone who was going to hold her interest with more than just a physical attraction or humor. She needed conversation and reassurance every now and then and Draco had been excellent at providing that. Sure, he wasn't perfect and he had his temper tantrums like any other member of the male species. Not to mention he knew where to hit when he wanted to hurt you. But he didn't do it often these days. Either that, or he took it out on anyone but her.

"Congratulations Hera," Draco said to her with a coy smile, "Am I to assume that we will be celebrating tonight?"

"Save it for another night," Voldemort told him promptly, "Hera has work that she needs to be getting on with before she even thinks about celebrating."

Hermione turned her gaze back to him as his red eyes met hers.

"You know of what I speak," he told her and she nodded before turning back to Draco.

"Another night, Draco," she smiled back before finally forcing herself to tuck into her roast duck.

She felt a probing inside her mind and knew that it was the Dark Lord looking for one of their regular mental conversations. Since when did he knock before entering?

"_He looks disappointed_," he told her as he scanned the hall with his gleaming eyes.

Hermione looked over to Draco who was stirring his food about his plate. Why didn't he hide it like she did?

"_He always is disappointed_," she replied to him_, "But that doesn't mean the relationship has changed, my Lord."_

"_Perhaps not for you," _he told her_, "However I believe young Malfoy may have grown attached to you. We must be sure that he does not end up like his father."_

She mentally flinched but hid it well by "accidentally" stabbing herself with her fork.

"_What happened to his father?" _She asked hesitantly_._

"_He was sentenced to death for treason but somehow managed to escape," _he decided to share with her,_ "His wife had failed to seduce the Russian Minister for Magic. She said she couldn't betray Lucius. In actuality it was her own weakness that allowed her to fail. I took her life as payment for her failure and used her carcass to show Lucius and Draco what happens to those who fail me. Lucius let his own weaknesses get in the way of the truth and attempted, quite poorly, to kill me before taking his wife's body and running."_

"_Is he still alive?" _She asked.

"_Unfortunately, yes," _he seemed to grumble,_ "But he is no longer a threat to me and he will be found soon."_

There was a minor pause between them in which Hermione stuffed more food in her mouth and scanned the hall and felt under the table for Draco's hand. Upon finding it she squeezed and got a squeeze back. It was enough to assure her that all was right with the world...for now.

"_How far along are you with my project?" _He asked her.

She mentally froze before forcing herself to relax.

"_Not very far my Lord,"_ she responded, trying to stay calm,_ "I know you need this as soon as possible but it will take time to gather the information I need. Repairing a soul is next to impossible without feelings of remorse."_

"_It will be done Hera," _he instructed_, "You will find me a potion that will repair my soul without making me feel sorry for anything I've done. I will not allow myself to repent for anything that I have done. Nothing I have done has ever been wrong or unnecessary. You will do the impossible if necessary."_

"_I said that it was _next_ to impossible my Lord," _she responded_, "Not that it was. It will just take time."_

"_Time is not something I have," _he spat back,_ "I will give you an assistant then shall I? Will that speed the process?"_

"_So long as they do not get in my way, yes," _she responded.

"_Very well," _he said,_ "Have Draco assist you from now on. The Carrows will take over both your classes until this task is complete. I will not tolerate failure."_

"_Of course my Lord."_

The connection was ended and Hermione was left internally shaking. This had been a very bad day.

***

"Stupid, stupid BITCH!"

Marcus Avery rolled his eyes once more as he watched Bella pace his bedroom floor, completely naked and severely enraged. He had been quite taken by surprise when she pulled him into his own bedroom and screwed the living daylights out of him, not that he complained, but now that it was over he was regretting letting the woman anywhere near him. Now that she was done with the fun for the evening she was back to storming and raging about Hera Grant and although the view was much improved this time around he would like it much better if she would just stop talking.

"Did you _see_ the way she practically fawned over the both of them?" She screeched, "She was throwing herself at them, the stupid whore! I'll bet you anything the only reason she's fucking Draco is because she wants to take my place as his favorite. But she'll never succeed. I am his most faithful! His most loyal..."

She began to grumble again.

"Bella, darling, why do you care?" Avery asked, "Come back to bed and I promise I will make you forget all about Hera Grant and her screwing the Dark Lor-"

He rolled off the bed just in time as she shot a killing curse straight at him, her eyes wide in a murderous rage, her nostrils flaring.

"The Dark Lord would _never_ allow a magically handicapped whore like her touch him!" She screeched, "Never!"

"Oh come on Bella," he rolled his eyes at her, "You've seen the way he looks at her just as much as I have. And if you ask me it's about time he got some. Perhaps he wouldn't be so- AAAAAH!"

He ducked again as she shot another one at him.

"How dare you speak of him like that!" She screamed, "He is your mater! Your Lord! And you will never disrespect him in my presence again! I should kill you right now for even thinking such things!"

"But you won't!"

He almost yelled in triumph when he disarmed her and her wand went flying directly into his hands. He only had seconds to register that magic was not Bella's only form of attack. Sure enough she launched herself over the bed and landed on top of him, straddling his hips and holding down both his wrists. She was awfully strong for a witch her age. But then, instead of wrestling her wand away from him and blasting the Headmaster into oblivion, she stopped and looked at him.

"You're taking this awfully well," she said to him.

"Well considering I've worked with you for years Bella, I'm bound to know a few of your weaknes-"

"Not me you idiot," she snapped, "The fact that, that whore is fucking my nephew."

"And she's also fucking-"

"Don't say it or you're a dead wizard," she growled before moving back on topic, "_You_ wanted her didn't you?"

"And I still do," he answered, "But one must know when he's beaten, Bella."

She narrowed her eyes at him for a few minutes before smirking down at him.

"Marcus?" She said sweetly. She released one of her hands on his wrists and ran it down his chest. She felt his breath hitch beneath her as she moved her hips slightly.

"Y-yes Bella?" He croaked out. She released his other hand and allowed him to place both of them on her hips. She leaned forward and gave him a fiery kiss that almost left him breathless.

"I want her to suffer Marcus," she whispered, "I want her feel real pain for what she's done. Don't you think she should to?"

She rolled her hips and he hissed and nodded in ascent.

"Don't you think she should know who she's really dealing with?"

He nodded again, closing his eyes and lifting her up and then down onto his member.

"And you still want to fuck her don't you?"

He nodded as she began to move.

"Then listen to me very carefully."


End file.
